


Golden Knight

by Syllis



Series: Seek To Mend [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Daedric Quests, Embedded Images, Gen, It's always Marcus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllis/pseuds/Syllis
Summary: "Are you my gallant hero? Have you come to whisk me away, to a life of adventure and romance?""I made a wish in the town well that a golden knight came to take me to his castle. Someday, a gallant hero will ride up and take me away. Someday..."Someday, I'll be a gallant heroine. You make it look so.. appealing."Former Blue Palace maid Erdi embarks upon a new career as a sellsword with her best friend, Marcus the relic collector, along to advise. Jarl Skald is willing to humor her by giving her a simple task-- which develops into something much more, with complications that she cannot imagine. Daedric Princes Sheogorath and Vaermina have chosen to involve themselves in the world of mortals, for reasons she does not know.





	1. Golden Knight

**Author's Note:**

> This story is subsequent to Sentiment, the first work in this series, but it's meant to be stand-alone.
> 
> The story thus far: Erdi, a maidservant at the Blue Palace, has always longed for adventure. Thalmor Justiciar Cyrelian came to her to get her help in assisting Ahtar the Executioner to escape the price on his head. Cyr gave her armor and encouragement: "Go be your own golden knight," he said. Cyrelian and Ahtar have now gone on towards Winterhold, leaving Erdi to pursue her own career as a sellsword.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erdi meets with Jarl Skald, who gives her a quest which promises little adventure: Go back home to Solitude to find his missing daughter, Thaena. Still, a septim is a septim. Erdi can't be picky at this stage of her adventuring career, so she makes a deal with Marcus: She'll help him get his artifacts to Solitude if he helps her find the missing Thaena.

Middas, 7th of Frostfall, 4e202:

"Did you ever just wake up like this? Look around, one day and wonder how in Aetherius--"

Ahtar laughed: "Pretty much every day, girl," he said. "Wake up to the cornicens, jump to get armored up-- and it's just that asshole town crier." He stopped walking and wiped his brow. "Yesterday when Lena was cooking those onions? Was back at home for lunch, just for a minute, and Jala sayin' something about one of the neighbors. Spoke to her, even."

"Did Jala answer you back?" Erdi asked.

"Been too much change." Ahtar sighed. "Ain't caught up yet. You?"

"I don't know who I am anymore!" 

That sounded too shrill-- Erdi took a long breath. She shook her hair out of her cuirass and gestured out towards Solitude, miles and miles away now over the Sea of Ghosts. 

"One minute I was standing there, thinking how I'd love to leave sweeping floors behind, and the next--Well, here we are!" She slapped her chest twice for emphasis, mocking the Imperial salute, the moonstone alloy of her gauntlets against her cuirass making a dull clack-clack. She swept her arm again in a mock flourish: "I guess this is my new life of adventure and romance."

Ahtar snorted. "Yeah kid, take it easy on the romance-- I think you gave the poor elf some kinda heart seizure. He was pretty upset."

"He got over it pretty fast," Erdi countered.

"Mhmm." Ahtar seemed pretty pleased with himself. 

He was in a good mood for a change and it didn't take a sage to guess the reason. Hrmf. My own decision, thought Erdi, ruefully. There wasn't going to be time for that kind of thing anyway. Not until she got herself situated.

Ahtar's expression was easy and relaxed as he gazed out to sea-- almost happy. So. She hadn't ruined it for Ahtar after all. Good. She would have regretted that, just as she regretted Cyrelian's shocked unhappy face. That had hurt. But the elf had needed to be told how things would be; and he had seemed pretty cheerful after coming back from wherever-it-was he and Ahtar had been sneaking off to, too. So no harm done.

"You see any ships?" Erdi asked, expressing doubt. That was what the two were supposed to be doing, after all. Keeping watch. But there was no wind and the sea was calm and empty.

"Nah," Ahtar said, pleased. "Nice quiet afternoon." After the insanity of this morning, he meant-- their assault on the pirates; the discovery of the pirates' hostages; all of the wailing and crying. Erdi was glad to be away from camp; let the Khajiit get the hostages settled down in a tent first.

They shared the peaceful view for a few moments. Then Ahtar coughed: "Thanks for, ah-- you know." Most of those women had not been able to tolerate the men dealing with them; Ahtar'd had his hands full just getting them up from below decks.

"Those poor ladies," Erdi said. "Hope we can find their kin to send them to."

"Hope so," agreed Ahtar. "Going to be Jarl Skald's problem. Not ours." 

"That's good," said Erdi. "I wasn't any too keen on picking up nursemaid duty again. I always hated doing it." Her nose wrinkled--having to strip and bathe the Blackblood Marauders' hysterical ex-captives had been nightmarish, but very much necessary. "Present company excepted," she hastened to add, brightly.

Ahtar made an amused noise, low in his chest. He was refusing to allow this depressing topic spoil his good mood.

"Do you like--um-- not being the one in charge of things any more?" Erdi asked, to cover her lapse. "Doesn't seem like you miss being jail-captain." 

"Eh? Good to not have to give orders all day long," Ahtar said "Or dealin' with stupid shit;" and: "Dunno. Not sure. Feels odd. What about you? You like being an adventurer instead of a...uh... palace maid?"

Erdi pointed at the wreck of the Icerunner: 

"You think I've even got a chance of that? I felt like a fool back there. Stumbling around, trying to hit things." She demonstrated her crude flailings with the outsize cutlass, which she had since given back to Marcus. "Cyrelian was saying...ugh. Do you really think I did any good? Sure didn't feel like it."

"You did what you was told and you didn't take an arrow. Makes you twice as useful as the-- ah--" Ahtar snorted derison "--Dovahkiin back up at camp there." And then: "Cyr thinks you're fine. Wouldn't tease you about it if he didn't. That ain't his way." His rough voice softened: "You heard what Cyr said to you-- back when?"

"Of course I did." How could she forget?

Don't look to me for rescue. Don't look to anyone. Stop waiting around. 

Go be your own golden knight.

"I seen recruits who was less promising," said Ahtar. 

"I'm pretty old for it," said Erdi, touching her face.

"No you ain't. Who put that in your head? You're fine. Pretty girl like you? Still gettin' more beautiful."

"Well, that's not how others saw it." One day a rising star at court; the next dressed in a housemaid's work clothes and toting buckets and scrub-brushes.

"Yeah? You care what those prissy little Blue Palace bitches-- Hey!" Ahtar rounded on Omir, and the big Khajiit startled back a pace or three. "Private conversation."

"Feh. Does Omir look like he has ears set to catch each whisper?" Omir gave his ragged and multiply-pierced ears an unnecessary preening. "Ma'dran has said--Go out and relieve the afternoon guard now. So-- you come in. Short shift for all Khajjit this evening. There will be a gathering at sunset, yes? Much singing."

"Oh, how delightful! Maybe it'll help everyone feel better," Erdi enthused. "I bet everyone could use a break. Do you think we can get Marcus to sing?"

\-----

 But the next few days were not very delightful for any of them-- just an endless slog of carting waterlogged and reeking items from the wrecked ship and tending the hostages and worrying over Cyrelian, whose illness had caused him to decline so suddenly. Ahtar went grim and silent again, and started displaying those ugly little flashes of temper-- there was even an argument with Ma'dran that risked them getting paid at all.

Alfgar the Dovahkiin abruptly lost patience and left camp for Dawnstar, returning back to the nearby beach with a small ship that could take Cyrelian and the ladies and the other wounded aboard. And Kharjo, himself quite irritated with Ma'dran, brought a healer through the moonpaths to attend to all of them before their voyage. Marcus was utterly exhausted and could heal no more.

Loredas, 11th of Frostfall, 4e202:

"Look at this mess--" said Marcus, coming to join Erdi at the ship's rail-- "All these buildings allowed to be built just sitting out there on the harbor. No sea-wall, no city gates-- nothing."

"My," Erdi said. "They must be fairly confident in their own--" Leaning on the rail meant her gauntlets were digging into her side; she removed them from her belt and tucked them in more securely at the small of her back.

Alfgar the Dovahkiin was shaking his head. "Overboastful and overreaching; Jarl's a pinchpenny and a dreamer. One ship convoy'd set the valor of his men at naught." Alfgar pointed out to them just where he'd set his towers and his walls, if he had the building of this city. "Good stone lies not far away," he mused. "And plenty of men for the digging of it, in the mines. Would be no expense other than the loss of the labor." He grunted. "Skald will not hear of it. Fool."

Marcus had rather abruptly stopped talking. 

Erdi wondered if the Dovahkiin even realized he'd trodden rough-shod over their conversation. She gave a polite non-committal response. Marcus said nothing. He kept his gaze on the far horizon. Go, Erdi willed, and after an awkward moment the Dovahkiin cleared his throat. Steadying himself along the rail, he made his way forward.

After a few moments, Marcus touched her shoulder and pointed out a couple of other features to her, this time in a low murmur. He was right beside her, shoulder to shoulder, so close that his left hand was lying across her right. Clingy again, Erdi thought ruefully. She let it go. Even through his glove she could feel the fine tremors of his hand. Too much magicka-use and hard work; not enough food and sleep. When one of the hostages cried out, his whole body flinched. Erdi let her fingers clasp his.

"I don't think you're doing yourself any good not talking to him," she counseled. "You should--"

"I should have walked," Marcus said, almost inaudibly. Erdi was so close she could feel him swallow. "When he didn't listen. I told him: do not do business with Jaree-Ra." 

Since there was nowhere else to put her left arm, Erdi slid it around his waist and let Marcus lean against her. He was smaller than she was; she could easily support his weight. "Pirates do what they do," she soothed. "Wouldn't have made a difference."

"Would have made a difference to them." His voice was thin, distant. "Extinguishing the lighthouse. I knew what that would mean. I should have left." He shook his head, blindly. "Maybe he would have thought better of it if he knew I was serious."

"I know Alfgar regrets it," said Erdi, firmly. "He said he had no idea what those Blackblood Marauders were like."

"Didn't he? I told him-- yeah. You know, what happened." 

Marcus' first few weeks in Solitude had been difficult, Erdi knew. Once Ahtar had stepped in, that had stopped. Even the dockside traffickers were not inclined to get into disputes with Solitude's torturer and executioner, whose temper was reckoned uglier than his face. The wind gusted sharply and whipped Marcus' hair into his eyes; into her face as well. He took his hand back to tuck his forelock more securely under hat-and-hood.

"What did Alfgar say about all of that?" she wanted to know.

"Nothing," Marcus told her, bitterly. " And I followed along like a fool. I helped." She could feel his expression clench tight again. "I did this," he said again.

"You did the best you could to make up for it," she argued.

Marcus had spent days and days now, pouring his magicka out in healing the hostages, sorting through what meager possessions the Khajiit had managed to salvage, sitting with them and talking, trying to make sense of their stories, trying to find names of kin. Anything. Sheshemarjo could not have asked for a better assistant. It had frankly spared Erdi much of an unpalatable task, as the former hostages were understandably leery of men and the caravan was mostly males. Marcus--well. For obvious reasons, Marcus was tolerable to them, even to the two who could not deal with Sheshemarjo. The ladies had hung all over Marcus, making impossible demands of him and of the caravan-- he had been exceedingly kind and patient. Erdi said so.

Marcus maintained his brittle silence.

"It's so very beautiful on the coast here," said Erdi, as they drew nearer. "It's a shame it's such a long walk to get down to the water in Solitude."

Marcus startled a bit, and raised his head. He agreed. "Enjoy it-- it won't last much longer," he told her. "Haafingar is much warmer than anywhere else along the Sea of Ghosts. Freeze-up is coming soon-- likely within the month." He rubbed his face and yawned: "It's not so lovely then."

"Mhm" said Erdi, thinking of that morning's brief unseasonable snow. She wondered uneasily where they would all be wintering, and prayed it would not be in a waxed-canvas tent.

Captain Leif Wayfinder brought the ship up as close as he could to the middle of town.

"Much appreciated," said Ahtar, as a couple of crew-members helped heave Cyrelian up and over the ship's rail onto the quay, notwithstanding Cyrelian's feeble efforts to assist. Theirs was a particularly unwieldy bundle: Cyrelian was pretty much down to bone-and-sinew but even so Altmer are much heavier than they look.

Erdi was left to sort out her own meager belongings-- Cyrelian and Ahtar had none-- whilst Alfgar the Dovahkiin spoke with captain and crew. Erdi could see how the Nords reacted to the Dovahkiin's charismatic presence, with deep admiration and respect. Marcus could see it too, and made a swift rude gesture where they couldn't see it. Erdi winced. 

"Don't be mentioning anything about deals with pirates," Marcus cautioned Erdi. "I don't think they'll take it so well. Probably blame us." He straightened up as Wayfinder approached them.

"Leave your things here," suggested the young captain, still eager to do the Dovahkiin -- and by extension that worthy's friends--whatever favors he could. "Find out where you're staying and get yourself settled. We'll be here at least till morningtide."

"Cyrelian?" Erdi patted his shoulder. The elf's eyelids were half-lowered. "Do you think you can walk as far as the inn?"

Cyrelian nodded abruptly-- he had no stamina left for conversation-- and tried to rise. Ahtar managed to get Cyrelian to his feet and put a shoulder under his arm; Erdi came to steady the two of them as they made their slow way upslope. Thankfully the snow had melted off as it fell and the boardwalks were dry by now, rather than slick underfoot.

 Marcus had gone to the city gates to check in with Dawnstar's Khajiit, who were still waiting on Ma'dran. And, incidentally, the great bulk of Marcus and Alfgar's personal belongings. Most of these crates and boxes were items recovered from their excavation of Ustengrav; and there were a few other valuables they had picked up along the way. All of it was destined for the great museum next door to the Blue Palace.

Alfgar the Dovahkiin was negotiating with a couple of women dockworkers and the lone female deckhand to help him get the pirates' hostages to the Jarl's guest quarters.

Erdi walked back to the ship to get her own small bag of personal item, letting Ahtar deal with the innkeeper and with the inconvenient fact that none of them had any money to speak of.

She thought she'd seen a Redguard woman in a leather work apron standing at a shop's railing earlier-- the angle she stood at and the incline of her head reminded her very much of Sayma. Would this lady be as sweet-natured? Erdi hoped so. She kept her neck craned as she walked along the narrow boardwalk, straining to make out the faded lettering on the signs.

"Oh! Pardon me!"

The boy who served as the Windpeak Inn's runner brushed himself off and laughed. "No harm done," he said, and pointed out a few buildings in response to Erdi's questions. "Walk you to the blacksmiths if you move quick," he said, and introduced himself as Alesan. "Can't stop. Gotta deliver a letter there and then it's time to bring the miners' dinner down."

"I'll take the letter for you," Erdi promised. "Where will you be later, in case they give me a coin for you?"

Alesan laughed. "See me at the inn," he said. "But I think you need it more than I do."

Well, he's not wrong, Erdi thought. I must look a right mess. She tugged her hair up off her face and out of her collar again and went on.

 Seren the blacksmith looked up as Erdi approached. Her brows rose: "That's not something you see every day. Husband?" 

Rustleif said. "You people've got a lot of nerve coming here, I can tell you-- Huh. You're not an elf."

"Not really," said Erdi. "I have a friend who's a pretty good thief, though," she admitted, and tried a little grin: "Hope you folks don't mind that we did a little stealing. The Thalmor won't miss another set of armor, and we've got two of these with us. And one of their sets of mail-and-leather that's even nicer-- my friend called it "sable"-- whatever that means. What d'you think I can get for them?"

Seren took Erdi's gauntlets and looked them over critically: "Salvagable," she decreed, and explained that if there were one thing that Hammerfell blacksmiths excelled at, she said, it was breaking down and re-using Altmeri armor. Caravans through the Alik'r would still on occasion come across sand-drifted piles of it, now hosting no more than dried bone. Erdi shuddered. 

A few minutes later, Erdi had it all arranged: Rustlief had an old set of clothes from when he lived in High Rock-- it was much too fancy for these folks here, he'd said-- and its loose-fitting shirt was massively oversized for him; it would do for Ahtar. And Seren even had an old set of leather armor.

"Kept it to be sentimental but--" Seren laughed ruefully, looking at her seven-months pregnant belly. "I shouldn't hang onto it to hang on. I'll never squeeze into it again and I think it'll enjoy seeing some use. Won't be doing a thing but hanging around the shop these next few months-- at least until I can make myself a cradle-pack and convince Rustlief to come home with me."

Rustlief glanced up from his workbench and rattled off a proverb in Yoku, which clashed oddly with his Northcoast accent. Seren pretended to brandish her small hammer at him and they both laughed. 

"We'll be here at least the next few months," Seren promised, setting it back down and kneading her lower back. "Probably years," she predicted, glumly.

Erdi set back out towards the general store. 

Cyrelian would need some clothing as well. 

The boardwalks were mostly empty as many of the workers were up in the fields, hurriedly bringing in the harvest.

Erdi came across an apothecary and went in to see what might be available.

Unfortunately, the healing potions were well beyond her ability to pay, though the alchemist was kind and offered to help for a minimal fee if Erdi should bring the ingredients to her. 

Frida no longer went out gathering on her own; she'd lost her husband that way some years ago, to wild beasts and the cold. She warned Erdi about the killing frost-- the weather here along the Sea of Ghosts can change in an instant in the cold season, going from seasonably warm to deathly frigid in a matter of hours if the wind changes. She'd seen this morning's brief snow, and misliked the omen. "Bad winter coming," Frida told her.

Erdi asked about the town itself-- Dawnstar's lack of walls and barricades. Didn't they fear the Imperials? Or the dragons?

Frida snorted: "The jarl has his head up his ass. Dawnstar's outgrown its bounds over the past thirty-five years, and do you think he's moved to do a thing? Rather watch his coffers fill up."

"What are you going to do when a dragon comes? Some of them do breathe fire." asked Erdi. "Or-- the Imperial Fleet?"

Frida cackled. "Probably go out to watch Skald get his ass lit up." She wiped a few errant leaves up from the counter into her palm. "Assuming we last that long. One good battlemage--we're just a pile of burnt sticks. Town's completely indefensible." She got a rag and began wiping the counter down. "Townsmen love Skald for a jarl-- can't beat the low taxes, they say. Idiots."

"What about that big tower overlooking town? Isn't that in use?"

"It's abandoned, dear-- been that way a long time. Hand me that board there, will you?" Frida took a silver knife from its rack and began to slice a huge dried mushroom-cap into long thin shreds. "It was some kind of temple-cult generations back-- that priest at the inn, he keeps a shrine to Mara up there. Don't know why he bothers. Jarl Skald'd likely let him set it up in town and he'd get some visitors to it. Maybe some offerings. Doubt he gets any traffic way up there-- it's a long walk. Cold up on that mountain, too."

  "I'm cold now," said Erdi, who was happy to be inside near a fire.

"You look it," said Frida. "If you and yours bring a few wolves in, the Jarl always has a bounty on the heads. Also Gules the leatherworker'll trade you five to one, raw wolfskins to finished pelts. That'll help keep yourselves warm.

"Thanks," said Erdi. "We'll keep that in mind."

Frida gave her a recommendation to another shop, and sold her an old linen shirt she no longer needed. Its sleeves would be short for Cyrelian, and it was rather threadbare, but it was better than nothing.

"We're not stayin' here long," reassured Ahtar. "Just long enough to gain the Jarl's ear, and then we'll go. Think we've got enough for a meal or three?"

"We do," Erdi said, and opened her pack. "I kept a few coins back as a reserve. I thought we'd need some things once we got into a city." She frowned. "I hope it's going to be enough. I didn't have a lot saved."

"We'll get by," said Ahtar.

"What's going on with Cyr?" she asked. The lanky elf was curled up on his side on the fur rugs in front of the inn's roaring hearth. His eyes were closed.

"Got him down to rest. Priest said he'd come take a look. Promised him we'd-- ah-- go and get a bath first." Ahtar frowned. "Might have to carry him. Get a litter, something."

Cyrelian was still shivering, now and then. If he'd heard them, he wasn't responding. 

"I think we all could use to get out of this armor," said Erdi. "We're disgusting." Cyrelian was an absolute disaster-- he had been very ill-- and she herself was filthy, her hair was lank and sticky, clinging to her neck and forehead. Irritated, she clawed the strands loose again.

"We'll get there," soothed Ahtar, patiently. "Get your hands washed and grab yourself a bite. It's gonna take Skald a bit to get around to us. Anyways Thoring's always got fruit and cheese and bread set out for travelers. He don't charge for it, said it's a gift to Julianos."

"Oh, that's good newsl I'm starving for something that isn't fish," said Erdi. "Or elk. Ugh! Never thought I'd get sick of venison stew and roast beast." 

"If you could go check in town for some clothes for us two, that'd be good," said Ahtar. "I should stay here in case one of Skald's guys gets back to us. Don't be too picky at the shops. Be a real treat to fit us." 

"Oh I know," said Erdi. "Tall skinny elf. Big fat elf." 

She poked at Ahtar's side on her way past him to grab an apple. 

Ahtar snorted.

"It's already done," she said. "Go check my bag."

"Huh," said Erdi, a few minutes later. "That's not too bad, I was afraid the pants were going to be way too short. Do you like it?"

"Isn't bad." Ahtar stomped around experimentally. "I like it you could find boots. Only a little big." Thoring went to the back and returned with some carded wool for Ahtar to tuck into his boots.

"Was my wife's," Thorning said, shortly, waving off any thanks. "Glad to see it's of some use."

"I didn't find much for Cyr," Erdi admitted. "Just a shirt." She frowned. "Maybe I should get him a robe instead. Or a blanket."

 When Erdi went to speak with him, Cyrelian refused all food, but tried to drink some watered mead. He denied to her that he needed to lie down again, but had pressed himself into the corner nearest the hearth, his head tilted back against the supporting wall. He was answering only direct questions. She could see that every breath was difficult. Cyr was in pain.

"Has the Dovahkiin come back yet?" Erdi asked.

Ahtar grunted. "Might be talking to Skald again. Might be off gettin' laid. Who the fuck knows." 

Marcus, Ahtar said, had gone to speak with the Dawnstar authorities about making arrangements for his belongings that were expected to come in with Ma'dran. Ma'dran had not come in yet, not that any of them had expected him to-- the Khajiits couldn't possibly be finished cleaning out the Icerunner yet. Ahtar had no faith in Ma'dran's word when it came to timelines, and said so.

"I think we will not need to worry about it," said Erdi. "Ji'la said she would take care of it. He will be here on time." She smiled. "Ji'la says she knows where Ma'dran sleeps."

"Heh," said Ahtar. "Pretty sure she's his wife." He yawned. "Girlfriend, maybe."

"Oh?" said Erdi, sweetly. "So we can trust her to know where to put the knife."

Marcus came in after a little while and related his progress; it seemed there would be some kind of small moot going on today for those who'd gotten harvest home. So the jarl would be a little further delayed. They had time to go and get cleaned up. Erdi and Marcus went to the inn's cellar, took one look at the tub-room available-- and vetoed it instantly. They didn't need for Cyrelian to pick up any new diseases.

With significant assistance, Cyrelian was able to walk all the way out to the bathhouse at the far eastern end of the boardwalk. This small facility was meant for townsfolk; not travelers, but Marcus assured them it would be all right-- at least until the harvest workers came back in.

Marcus snarled under his breath as they approached a building which had red banners streaming in the wind. It was the same noise he'd made earlier. 

"Where's your man?" asked Erdi, curious. "Isn't he done with the jarl by now?" Alfgar the Dovahkiin was nowhere to be seen.

"Employer," corrected Marcus, frostily. And: "Former employer. Visiting a friend." He was scowling.

"Yeah?" said Ahtar. "You remember what I said." Under his breath, Ahtar muttered,"Good fuckin' riddance". 

Marcus did not look any happier. He remained silent, brooding.

As much as Erdi wanted to get herself cleaned up, she could see that it was going to be some time before the men were done, and she had nothing clean to wear. Seren was still working on refurbishing her new leather armor. 

"I'm going to see what other supplies I can get," she announced.

"Things get a lot rougher around here after dark, girl," Ahtar said, leaning his head back against the wall to wait. "Much worse than Solitude dockside. Cutpurses, robbers, streetwalkers. So if you feel restless and want to walk about, do it now."

Dawnstar was bursting with new construction. Houses had grown up all along the waterfront now, and in places the wall itself looked like it had been pulled down and used to form one of the cobbled streets. Erdi shook her head at this.

Ahtar had walked to the furthest end of the boardwalk, surveyed the entire town in one sweeping glance; and dismissed it: "Fucked."

Erdi could see the longboats patrolling. Maybe that would be enough for now. To keep away the Imperials at least. No help if dragons came instead.

Thoughtfully, Erdi climbed up to top of the hill just beyond the inn.

She could see the remmant of Dawnstar's old walls and harbor here and there ; there was a small lighthouse atop one spur that was still maintained, but most of the rest had crumbled.

How many decades had Dawnstar been at peace?

Many more than three or four, she thought.

Erdi could see the mine workers at the smelter were taking a meal break. Beyond them, ships were still coming and going freely in and out of Dawnstar's harbor.

Even with most of its population out in the harvest-fields, Dawnstar was evidently bustling. As Erdi watched, another ship came in, sails furled, gliding along with the aid of its oarsmen.

Erdi could see the Sea Squall-- the ship that had agreed to take Cyrelian and Ahtar to Winterhold; it was prepping for its next departure.

She walked down the hill and went along the upper road that bordered the town.

The wind coming down off the mountain was bitter cold. Some of the trees were still snow-covered from this morning.

In an hour or two the light would fade, and she would have to go back in. Erdi did not want to. The inn, while comfortable, was too close and warm after her days spent out in the wilderness. Dusk would be soon enough to go indoors again.

"Jarl Skald's ready for us," said Ahtar. "Cranky bastard. He don't like me. Maybe you better talk."

"What?" Erdi startled. "Me? What am I supposed to try to get him to do?"

"Just to pledge hospitality for the three nights for us. Gonna get the elf out of here as soon as that ship-captain says ready. Skald's gonna shit himself when he finds out he's giving shelter to a real Thalmor."

Erdi groaned. Then she said: "Have you heard from--"

"Yeah, he came limping in a couple a minutes ago talkin' about how he had everything set up for those ladies we set loose-- going to send them back to the Temple of the Divines with what's left of those Imperials for escort-- taking their wounded home. Got a couple other Imperials who're ah-- " Ahtar rubbed the side of his head. "Gonna be shipped out along with 'em. Exiled." He shrugged. "Some old lady officer and her chicken. Skald hauled them up into court just a bit ago. Doesn't wanna kill 'em-- just wants them gone."

"So why does Skald want to see us?" Erdi asked, cautiously. 

Ahtar blew out his breath. "Dunno. Might be he wants more information."

"Too bad," said Erdi. "I was hoping we could at least get supper first."

Ahtar sighed and handed over the cheese-wedge he'd been about to bite into. "Here," he said. "Dealin' with Skald's gonna make me lose my appetite anyways."

"How do you know him?" Erdi asked, curiously.

Ahtar grunted. "Some kind of cousin to-- you know." 

Erdi nodded. 

"Anyways you know how it is-- these families all kiss the ass of the Stormcloaks. Old Hoag must've shit gold." He straightened his new collar and tugged at his cuffs. "Skald had some ah...dynastic ambitions-- all them daughters-- you can guess why he don't like me." 

Erdi could. 

"Skald was dreaming," Ahtar continued. "As if 'Stavan would've consented to a jarl's daughter. He was after more." He sniffed. "Princess out of High Rock, maybe; or one of them Medes. Skald's girls are pretty and well-learned, but--" 

"Mmm," Erdi agreed, surprised. "Haven't heard you say that name in years."

"Dreamt of him earlier," he admitted. "Fell asleep for a minute waiting on the bath. Terrible dreams." 

Erdi watched Ahtar out of the corner of her eye, but he appeared to be all right. They continued to walk down the main gate road past the inn, and turned down the high street to head towards the jarl's longhouse.

"Divines' sake, Skald--who do you think we're threatening?" The big Nord woman and the soldier in a high-ranking officer's uniform were confronting a richly dressed old man standing on the steps of the Jarl's longhouse. Her voice rang out trumpet-loud; she could be heard across the whole town.

"Your man Horik is wearing his old Legion armor. What should I make of that?" The jarl's voice carried just as far, effortlessly, for all that he was an old, old man.

"He's entitled to wear it as a Great War veteran, and you know it," the woman snapped. "He's proud of his service, Skald. The Legion taught us loyalty. And we're loyal to Dawnstar." 

The woman's arms lowered, and Erdi saw the insignia the woman was wearing pinned to her formal robes.

"Is that..." her eyes widened. What was a full Legate doing in Dawnstar? Ahtar saw it too, and muttered something profane. Erdi caught at his broad hand and tried to pull him along-- they were supposed to be going to the longhouse, not standing in the road and eavesdropping. Ahtar took it away, ignoring her. Erdi was forced to wait.

The Legate continued to argue with the jarl, over their possessions; over their property-- she was making no headway in her argument; she'd had her turn to speak at the moot in her own defense. And she'd lost. The two had been exiled. The officer-in-uniform--her man, from what Ahtar had said-- was trying to pull her away; from his face Erdi guessed that he considered himself lucky to get out without facing the axe or the gibbet.

"I told you this isn't over," growled the Jarl. "You're getting on the next boat to Solitude-- and if I catch you sending one letter to General Tullius in the meantime, I'll have you both executed." His face was pinched and suspicious as he watched the two of them leave.

"For Kynes' sake, what now?" he exclaimed, seeing the two of them. "First the godsdamn Legion, now the--"

Erdi stepped forward. "Well, sir," she said, daring mischief. "We all know that where the Legion goes, the Justiciars follow." She made coarse snuffling noises. "Like dogs. Sniffing out Talos worship." She smiled up at him. "But I'm not an elf, sir--just a thief. Did the Dovahkiin speak to you about us yet?"

"Yes, yes," Skald said tiredly, and motioned her and Ahtar towards the longhouse door. "He told me all about your motley little crew. Come in and get warm, assuming you can bear the ramblings of a paranoid old man."

Huh. She let Skald lead her to a seat by the fire. His steward put a cup of warm mead into Erdi's cold hands, and a plate of bread and meat and vegetables near the two of them. She gave Skald a great goblet full of red wine as he took a nearby chair. Ahtar stood in the shadows nearby.

"You're not paranoid, sir," said Erdi. "Are those two new in town?"

"Neither's from around here," the old Jarl mused. "Bought a house from Ilva about five years back. Dawnstar's a growing place-- many folks are new. Thought nothing of it. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought it was odd for folks here to be wearing Legion armor." Erdi sipped her mead. It was good-- and she thought it had been mulled with cinnamon. "After you declared for Ulfric," she amended.

"Not their usual thing," agreed Skald. "Maybe on the Emperor's birthday. I saw them a couple of weeks ago, and... They didn't even break it out when Ulfric was here." He snorted. "Though Merelis even insisted on making her own speech as well-- ridiculous." He drank from his wine cup. "Calls herself a true Nord. Woman's from County Bruma. Spent her whole career in Cheydinhal."

Erdi tapped a fingernail against her cup, thinking. 

She became resolved: "Well, sir, they're probably pretty unhappy that it hasn't happened yet, but there was that Imperial incursion set to take place here." She took another sip without breaking eye contact with Skald. "Maybe they don't know yet that the dragon took care of that for you. It pretty much demolished their whole camp and killed nearly everyone in it."

Ahtar made a little noise behind her, but she ignored it. There would be no harm in telling Skald what he either already knew or would shortly be told by either the Dovahkiin or his own patrols.

 "I was told that camp was an observational outpost!" Skald was glowering. "Do you mean to tell me that it wasn't?"

Erdi began to explain. After a few minutes Skald had his Stormcloak recruiter bring a map out to the table, so that Erdi could show them where she and Cyrelian had discovered the Legion encampment, barely twenty miles away, up atop the low plateau overlooking a sheltered spot on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. Cyrelian had told her that even a large ship could easily re-supply the place, by standing off the coast and transferring goods into ships' boats.

 "Cyr didn't think it was any kind of observation camp like the sergeant said--and once he pointed things out I didn't either," said Erdi. "Why did it have a hospital tent? And a blacksmith, for pity's sake." And there had been lots of piles of canvas, and several tall stacks of tent-poles-- much more than would ever be needed for fifteen or twenty men. Ahtar and the Dovahkiin hadn't commented on all of this-- but then Erdi remembered. Most of the Legion camp had been glowing coals by the time they'd all finished that battle, so perhaps they'd simply trusted what the survivors had said.

 "Heh." Skald rubbed his grizzled chin "What d'you suppose happened to the Imperial ships?"

 "Good question," she sighed. Ahtar had, rather unnecessarily, jabbed her in the ribs. "Maybe this situation with Solitude?"

She went back to her mead as Skald motioned his housecarl over, pointing at the map and giving orders with brief, irritated jerks of his thumb. When Erdi finished she sat quietly with her cup in her lap, waiting until Skald looked back up.

"Your friend the Dovahkiin was telling tales of you, he said, abruptly. And, to his steward: "Go get him, will you? He's at that museum fellow's house." He turned back to Erdi: "Is it true you've served at the Blue Palace?" he demanded. "That child Elisif herself?" 

"I have." Erdi kept her voice expressionless. She gave no details.

The old jarl said: "At least one of your friends--" he scowled at Ahtar, who gave nothing back--"has a price on his head. Do you think you can freely enter the city?"

"I should be able to," said Erdi. "I left right as things were getting really crazy-- arson and riots and such." She shrugged. "I told them I was headed out to Jehanna to go to my family for a bit." Erdi didn't have any family, but it was known she'd come from there.

"Think you'd be able to ask questions, find out about somebody who's been missing?" Skald leaned forward. "Maybe even appeal to that little-girl jarl?"

Erdi allowed that perhaps she could.

 Skald asked a few more questions-- did she know her way around; did she have kinfolk in town; who were her connections. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alfgar the Dovahkiin make his slow way across the hall, and take a nearby seat. Her answers to Skald appeared to be satisfactory to him; she could see him nodding:

"I need you to go to Solitude and find my daughter, Thaena," said Jarl Skald. "She's missing. It could be that those miserable Imperials are holding her prisoner. Or it could be--" he sighed. "Worse than that. My little granddaughter Yllga has an illness, see. Thaena took her to the Temple of the Divines last month to see if the healers and priests there could effect a cure. She would have sought lodging at the Blue Palace, as is her right. I haven't heard from her since all of this nonsense in the city." He scowled. "Jorluf promised me no harm would come to her, and I've heard naught from him nor her. I sent one of my more trustworthy Thanes down to take charge of things, but his men came back recently on their own. Advised me he's been missing, too."

"How long ago did Thaena come to Solitude?" Erdi asked. "Because there was no lady by that name in the Blue Palace when I left. No visiting Nord ladies at all at that time. There were some guests from Morrowind but they left before I did."

Ahtar broke in-- "Roundish face, fair blonde hair in a long loose tail, medium height and kind of slim?" he asked, and coughed. "Sorry-- I never met all your girls. She was staying in the best room at the Skeever and went back and forth to the Temple every day. Left early. Returned late." He shrugged. "Crossed my path pretty much every evening as I'd come in to eat."

"Did she--" Erdi hesitated. "Did she favor a brown tunic quilted with silver thread? Because I think I've seen that lady, talking with Silana and Angeline." She looked at Skald. "So I can guess that the Imperials have re-occupied Solitude?" That was a diplomatic way of putting it. Cyrelian would be proud.

Skald's mouth pursed. "They have," he said, disagreeably. "We have a number of individuals still being held as hostages. If you have any sway with the Palace, I'd appreciate it if you could get them home."

"I can try," said Erdi. "It would help if you gave me something to bargain with." And what are you going to do for me?, she thought.

The old Jarl nodded. "We can talk about that."

"The Dovahkiin has earned my regard," Skald told her. From his seat of honor, Alfgar the Dovahkiin nodded. "He has spoken for you and your friends. All of them." Alfgar nodded again.

"I have considered," said Skald. "For their bravery, and as a gesture of good faith, I am sending your surviving Imperials back to Solitude. That damned Legate and the rest of her household can escort them. I make no demand of ransom-- not beyond my daughter and granddaughter back safe to Dawnstar." He folded his arms. "I want my Thane. He's a good man and I was considering making him my next law-speaker. Willing to pay for that, within reason. And I want you to tell Falk Firebeard that I am interested in discussing the winter-truce. Neither Haafingar nor the Pale's in shape for any war till after the spring planting, anyhow. Can't miss that, not after the hash we've made of this harvest."

"There are rules in war," the Dovahkiin broke in. "Spoken; unspoken. Better it be that men abide the same, lest all fall to wrack."

Skald agreed: "We're men, not elves nor dremora nor beasts. We will make treaty until it is time for battle again." He lifted his cup and his voice; gone was the thin-voiced old man; Erdi could well hear the voice that had made him jarl-- the walls were ringing: "And we will fight like men, until the banner of the Stormcloak rules every hold. We will have a true High King! One tested in war, not some creature reared in High Rock like a veal calf in a cage."

Alfgar the Dovahkiin was laughing quietly. Behind Erdi, Ahtar remained silent. Jarl Skald had not spoken to nor acknowledged him. 

Skald rubbed at his chin, looking at Erdi's moonstone armor. "Jarl's court's in session for the rest of this week," he said. "We'll convene again and cry your case at sunset," he said. And then, musingly: "Are you willing to indulge me in a bit of theater?" 

Cautiously, Erdi allowed she might.

They spoke for a time, after which Erdi removed herself to the kitchens at Skald's direction, to stay out of sight until it was time for her to take the stage, as it were. The steward brought her a large plate of roast fowl with potatoes and leeks that had been caramelized in its drippings. It was unutterably delicious. Ahtar glumly ate the potatoes and the leeks. The cook took pity on him and brought him bread-and-butter and honey.

When the steward came to fetch them back in, there were quite a few more people milling around. "What am I supposed to be doing?" hissed Erdi, into the woman's ear.

Skald was sitting a bit more formally on his throne. 

"Same kind of conversation as you had earlier," the woman whispered, the jerk of her head indicating that it would be for the benefit of all of these thanes and small-holders. "Answer him back brightly," she advised. 

Skald was sitting a bit more formally on his throne.

There were murmurs, none of them pleasant, as Erdi in her Altmeri moonstone armor walked to the front of the room.

Skald's querulous old-man voice pierced the noise of conversation: "What's this? One of our esteemed overlords?" He sniffed: "Look at this one, Jod, strutting in like she owns the place. Hope you like what you see, missy, 'cause this place's going to be your home for a good long--" He broke off in feigned surprise. "You're not an elf."

If anything, Skald managed to sound as if this circumstance were even more suspicious.

Erdi fished her hair up out of her collar--again!-- and came up to his throne. "No, sir," she said, making her quick bow. "A friend of mine stole this armor for me, right out of Castle Dour."

"Ha! Under the noses of the Imperials, I take it?"

"No sir. Your own men." 

Laughter from the crowd, quickly muffled.

Erdi hesitated. 

"Well. Jorluf's men. A friend of mine needed a disguise and uh-- I just wanted to be-- um. Out of the city. So--" she spread her arms. "I walked out with a helmet on pretending to be an elf in elven armor." She continued to smile. "It's actually on loan from Sayma right now. I already sold it to her. In return for some--" she made a face "--much more suitable clothes."

"Hm," said Skald to Jod. "See? Told you Jorluf wasn't all that." 

Ahtar couldn't quite repress a snort. Alfgar the Dovahkiin chuckled and said something to the men standing near his chair.

Skald's attention returned to Erdi: "So what brings you to Dawnstar, Miss Not-an-elf?"

"Well, sir-- we were supposed to be going to Winterhold and then along to Windhelm, to meet with the Stormcloak. But then we ran into the Imperials and there was this dragon attack--" 

Skald interrupted her: "The only reason dragons are attacking is because Talos is angry with us for turning our backs on him. As soon as we drive the Empire out of Skyrim, the dragons will vanish. You mark my words."

Skald turned to his housecarl: "Have there been any sightings of dragons near the city?"

"No, my Jarl," said Jod. "There was that big one, but it veered off into the wilds of Hjaalmarch."

"See? Talos is looking out for us." Jarl Skald nodded. "Must have been looking out for you too, missy. Heard you took on that dragon with a dinner knife." 

Skald paused, a glint in his eye, and then spread his arms wide. The room fell instantly silent-- no need to cry the oyez-- and he told the tale in its entirety, complete with the Dovahkiin's massive error in judgment which had resulted in his mangled hand--and ended with Erdi's standing still with the dragonscale still in her hand, as the corpse of the dragon flared up and burned all around her.

Erdi grimaced at the laughter. It had hardly been funny, watching that dragon tear men in half and-- Jarl Skald was looking her up and down. 

"You a Nord?" he demanded, and turned to Jod. "I bet she's a Nord. All that black hair but look at that feisty attitude...who else would dare take on a dragon? Hm? Not one of those Breton lasses."

  Erdi lifted her chin: "My mother said I was a Nord. Who am I to argue?"

Laughter, again, and this time some whistled applause. 

"Good. I can see you're not some milk-and-water girl," said Skald, wiping his face. "I like that. Your friend the Dovahkiin was saying you were thinking of entering the merchanting trade? Needing a stake to get started? Better you than some miserable cats, I suppose, eh?" 

He leaned forward. 

"I have a job. Might be suited for one of your talents. Could help get you started if you think it's worth your time."

"Well?" Erdi said, the next morning. "What do you think?"

She turned around to show off her new leather armor. It was vastly more comfortable than the rigid plates of moonstone, and it didn't hurt her shoulders. Even better, she had a full set of clothes on beneath-- a shirt, a waistcoat over that, and a pair of long pants. Sayma had even given her a couple of sets of underthings, with an apology-- they were used, but well-darned and scrupulously laundered.

Erdi was particularly grateful for the four pairs of socks. She was wearing two-- Sayma's boots had not fit her, so this was a new pair, and it had to be broken in. In return for the blacksmith's kindness, Erdi had agreed to look for some books for her in Solitude, so she would have something of Hammerfell to read to her coming child.

"Does it look okay in the back?," she asked.

"Yeah. Think it'll suit you better than elven make," said Ahtar. "Nice and dark, too-- it won't shine under the moonlight."

"I think Sayma did a really good job given the time she had," agreed Erdi. "How is Cyrelian?"

"Asleep," he said. "Priest gave him something. Skald say anything about me after I left?"

"No," said Erdi. "He didn't mention you at all-- not even when he told me that me and my friends had our three-days grace."

"Figures," said Ahtar. "Skald's always pretended I wasn't there. Even when I was right in his face lookin' right back at him. Prick." His mouth crooked in what wasn't a smile. "Skald sees only what he wants to see. And what he wants to see is Nords. Remember that."

He cleared his throat. 'Re-occupied Solitude'-- I liked that. Figured you might have gone too far but they ate it up. All I saw was grinning."

Erdi hooked a thumb at the blissfully-unconscious Justiciar: "Been learning."

Erdi rather hoped that Cyrelian and Ahtar wouldn't run into weather. A voyage to Winterhold seemed like it might be too much for the dainty Sea Squall. Cyrelian could barely walk even with herself and Ahtar helping, but he absolutely refused to be carried. It was a relief to have him out of his stinking armor.

The morning's clouds were clearing but it was even colder. Erdi was grateful herself for her new armor-- and even more grateful for the garments she'd been able to gather for Cyrelian-- after she had mentioned the need, the Jarl had called for donations-- so they hadn't cost a thing. Cyrelian seemed much more comfortable in his new clothes, his elf-ears hidden securely under his hood. He was too tall to really pass as a human, but he was leaning heavily on Ahtar, stumbling along, so it would be difficult to gauge his height. It did help that Ahtar was so big.

Erdi walked on down towards the bathhouse to get herself cleaned up, finally. She'd been just desperate enough last night to sluice off in the Windpeak's tub prior to putting on her new nightshirt-- but now she rather needed to cleanse herself from that experience. She grimaced. Marcus had caught her arm and kept her from going into one of the alcoves to get undressed. She could have lived without his description of what went on in those dim places at night. At least he'd stood watch for her. They were getting along much better these days, she thought. He'd been trying. 

Marcus would be going back to Solitude with her-- she had struck her own deal with him. Good practice, she thought, though he'd been quite reasonable.

She would help Marcus take his crates and bales of various items back to be the museum in town, where they would be inventoried and assayed and hopefully purchased. In return, Marcus would assist her in finding Thaena and her daughter.

 When he and the Dovahkiin had split up their belongings, Marcus had immediately conceded all of the ready coin to the Nord, letting Alfgar take the great bulk of it. Marcus had immediately rebuffed Erdi's protest and taken her aside: "I'm not going to argue and dicker with him over it," he said. "Alfgar's doing these expeditions for the money, not for items of historical interest. If he waited around for me to get this stuff sold off so that we could split things down the middle, it could be weeks. So, no. I'm done." He refused to discuss it further: "He agreed to take the money instead of these things, so. Done."

Erdi expressed her concern about whether they would be seeing any money at all. "Auryen's a good friend," Marcus assured her. "He'll give me good value. And we'll be right by the Blue Palace so we can watch and see who comes and goes. Get some idea as to what's going on before we go in."

Fredas, 14th of Frostfall, 4e202:

"Guess Skald told us true," Erdi observed, as they came into Port Turrannus. Legion ships were docked everywhere and she could see several picketed out to harbor. There was even-- she squinted-- yes, that was a patrol. Imperial ships.

Someone was taking no more chances.

Their own ship would dock here for a few days; Skald's order would hold it for a week if necessary. Its captain advised Erdi that she would appreciate it, please, if they could spend less time than that. They needed to finish their last run to Solstheim and Morrowind before the coming winter made that too dangerous.

"We'll let you know as soon as possible," Erdi promised.

Rather than get on yet another boat, she and Marcus hiked along the East Empire road along the coast, passing patrols and carts along the way. It was only about an hour or so's walk.

Haafingar's guards wore their normal red colors these days, she observed. A number of men in those ranks looked like Imperials or Bretons. No Nords. No surprise there.

"I forgot how many steps this is," Erdi groused, as she and Marcus made their slow way from dockside to the main gate. 

It didn't matter. They'd been told already it was the main gate or nothing. Currently the harbor gate and marsh gate were closed to all but military traffic. Security concerns.

As they rounded the last corner, Marcus drew in his breath: 

Erdi leaned in: "Is that--"

Marcus grabbed Erdi's arm and gripped it, hard: "Jaree-Ra." he hissed back, and hauled her bodily to the side of the road. But the Argonian did no more than grace them with a civil head-nod as he walked up to the main gate and to the Imperial waiting there.

"Am I dreaming?" Marcus asked Erdi. "Because--oh gods-- this is my nightmare. Please tell me this isn't for real. We're still back on the boat, right? I'm just losing my mind and we're still in Dawnstar..." Both of his hands still gripped her arm. Erdi patted him.

"You're awake," she said. And: "Shh- Listening."

"Thank you for coming down here to see me on such short notice, General. Such an unfortunate misunderstanding, so I'm glad that we could get it cleared up. I'm pleased to report--our reorganization is now complete. The Blackblood Marauders are now in a position to provide the information that you requested. So, if we are now in accord?"

"We are," said General Tullius grimly. We are not, by his expression and his tone.

"Excellent. Might I suggest that our men of business handle the rest of this exchange? Radas will be coming to Castle Dour this afternoon with the packet for you. He carries my authority to negotiate."

"Acceptable," grated Tullius, in tones that suggested that it was not-- but that he would abide by his word nonetheless.

"Very well," said Jaree-Ra. "Tide won't wait for me, so I'll be off. Send word through Radas if you need anything further." Another respectful nod and the pirate Argonian was off, striding past Erdi and Marcus on his way back down to the docks.

Well. That was something. 

"I don't think our news about the hostages is going to be so welcome," murmured Erdi. "Think I'll leave that up to Skald's men." And "No!-- I think he's staring at you."

"Yep," agreed Marcus.

He shook off his mood and moved forward, smiling the professional smile of the entertainer.

"Haven't I seen you before?" General Tullius demanded of Marcus, suspiciously.

Marcus stepped forward and made his bow: "I'm a bard-in-training, sir," he lied. "Master Viarmo sends us everywhere-- even to the Blue Palace sometimes. Perhaps you've seen me play?" His expression was one of pure delight--a possible patron? He had gained a great man's notice-- this would be a good day!

The general grunted indifferently, already bored with this exchange. He turned away, re-entering the city through its narrow side gate. Erdi could hear him, irritably telling the gate-guard to stand down.

Erdi caught up to Marcus. "Oh my gods," Marcus said, faintly, in Erdi's ear. "I thought I was going to faint."

"I'm sure I don't want to know," she assured him.

"What?! Wouldn't dare," Marcus shook his head. "Not that. Just--the last time I saw him, I got arrested. Let's -- um--wait a bit before we get into line. Make sure he's gone."


	2. Paid for the Dressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erdi and Marcus make it into Solitude, to find that the City is once more held by the Imperials and that the Stormcloak takeover failed when the Stormcloak commanding officers all went missing. Marcus' buyer is not in the city. So, left to their own devices, the two decide to find a way to get into the Blue Palace without Erdi being recognized-- so that they can find Skald's missing daughter, Thaena.
> 
> Erdi believes that her quarry has disappeared into the Pelagius Wing, but she does not tell Marcus the significance of the key-- or why the Pelagius Wing is said to be haunted...

{Fredas, 16th of Frostfall, 4e202] 

Marcus kept looking back over his shoulder-- so he didn't notice when the sour-faced, wiry Nord beckoned the two of them up. Was Marcus still looking around for Argonians? Fine, let him stand there, thought Erdi. She moved forward.

"Just some sight-seeing," Erdi said, ignoring sour-face to dimple at the other gate-guard standing near, the young one. "No weapons. All I've got is my bag here and my belt dagger." She proffered the bag. The youthful Imperial shook it and poked his thick fingers around inside of it. He was in a Haafingar guardsman's uniform, but it was plain to Erdi that he wasn't a local-- he still had the crop-haired haircut of his home Legion. She glanced at his arm-mark but didn't recognize the Legion number she saw, let alone his home castra.

"Jax, you need to ask see the knife," directed the Nord, irritated. "Measure it. Make sure it's in compliance. Every time." 

Erdi saw the short, broad-shouldered Imperial wince, and visibly conceal a sigh. "All the guys I coulda been assigned to for training and I get Tostig. Stendarr spare me," he muttered, under his breath. "Sorry miss," he directed, in a much louder voice. "Over here." He directed her over to where a metal measuring stick had been mounted into the wall. Erdi gave it to him as demanded. "Sorry-- I'm just supposed to ensure it isn't 'a dangerous knife' -- oh look, it's well under the proscribed length. What a surprise," he said. And, with a venomous glance toward the old Nord... even more quietly: "All day long--"

"It's a very useful knife to have," Erdi said humbly, amused. "It kills dragons."

"Ha! I'm sure it's quite good for onions, miss." The guard was smiling back at her. "And potatoes. But cabbages--" His hand waggled: cabbages, he thought, would be too much for it. Behind Erdi the queue was building up but as Senior Gate-guard Tostig was well-occupied going through Marcus' many belt-bags and pouches, the so-called Jax appeared to be in no hurry to get back to his pinch-faced scrutiny. "So what's your name?" he asked Erdi, still smiling.

Marcus was waiting for her, rather disgruntled, at the entrance to the stairwell in the tower. "Was all that really necessary?" he grumbled.

Erdi inclined her head. 

"His name's really Iacopo Trenta and he's from Leyawiin," she said. "Hates being called Jax. Has no idea what he's doing here, was pulled out of Farrun together with his castra and sent here about a week ago to be reassigned to the Fifteenth Legion and "stuffed into this ridiculous provincial gear." Says he hates the food but the beer is better than anything he's had in his life. He's on duty again at the same time tomorrow morning, and he wants to know what I'm doing with, quote..." Her hands crimped the air. "That Nibenese umm... um..um. One such as yourself," she amended hastily, electing at the last moment to not say the word.

Marcus waved off the much-less-than-flattering description of himself. He was scowling. 

"If things get bad again I'd like to know that there's at least somebody'd might be willing to let me out," said Erdi. "Without touching me even. Better than being felt up all over by that weird old guy." She elbowed Marcus as they went up the stairs. "You enjoy yourself?"

Marcus gave her a little shove with his shoulder right back: "Damn near charged him twenty septims."

"Huh!" said Erdi, in surprise. 

"What?"

Erdi pointed at the red banners that had been tacked up everywhere, flourishing the renewed might of the Empire in Solitude. "Somebody's been busy," she said. "All those had been pulled down before we left."

Marcus was looking about, calculating. "Do you feel like you can risk being in the market?" he asked. "Better to get the answers to some questions before we go on."

"You go ahead," said Erdi. "I'll wait up here on the wall. I don't want to run into someone I know." She'd feel... well...

Foolish.

Marcus went down and spoke to one of the Imperial officers at length. Then he came back up to tell Erdi all about it:

Quaestor Lorents had been relatively forthcoming-- in fact he'd said that part of his job out here was to advise the general public of what had happened. And what steps had been taken to ensure that it could never happen again.

The quaestor said it hadn't been a pleasant few days but it wasn't as bad as could be. There had only been three civilian casualties and relatively few deaths all told:

[Fredas, 3d of Frostfall, 4e202]

Acting-Captain Jorluf, who had led the Nord members of the Haafingar guard in its mutiny, had simply disappeared. No one could find him.

General Istvir, the commander of the main Stormcloak force which beseiged Solitude's gate, had also vanished, together with one of his personal guard. He had left behind no message other than that he was due to confer with Jorluf.

Snowhammer Yorvik-- here Quaestor Lorents had pulled a face: these ridiculous Stormcloak rankings-- another commander who had brought his own men to this fight, was also missing. Unaccountably. Yorvik's men were critically important, as they were here to bolster the Haafingar guard-in-rebellion and to maintain Solitude's defenses while General Istvir took care of the legionary forces.

This left Stormblade Tan-- the quaestor had winced again-- as the sole commander present. A mere recruitment officer. Neither Tan-the-Walker no anyone in Tan's recruitment cadre knew who it was that they were supposed to be coordinating with in Solitude, or when, or why. Tan-the-Walker himself was frantically sending out patrols and couriers, looking for all three of the missing commanders. 

With General Istvir gone, nobody in the main Stormcloak camp knew what their new orders might be. 

With their own captain gone, the Haafingar guard-in-rebellion attempted to maintain its patrols, but the Stormcloaks who had come to assist them were unhappy about their assignments and refused to accept the guardsmen's authority. A new Acting-Captain Hrodmir was hastily elevated but was not particularly well-received. Nor competent. Snowhammer Yorvik's men immediately took issue with his directives and were on the verge of a walkout.

[Loredas, 4th of Frostfall, 4e202]

A flotilla of Dawnstar-crewed Stormcloak ships arrived at the Solitude docks. They were light on crewmen and carried no passengers. When questioned, the captain could say only that he had received orders from Snowhammer Yorvik on the 2nd of Frostfall via messenger-bird. His orders were to go to Solitude Harbor and wait for further instruction. He had no further word. This was later determined to be the last order issued by any of the three missing commanders.

[Sundas, 5th of Frostfall, 4e202]

Word came in that Imperial forces had landed at Port Turranus. And at Northwatch Keep. And that they were coming over to Dragon Bridge in boats from the marsh. And that they were marching down Karthkreath Strand in force. Only the last of these rumors proved true-- but a half-Legion would be more than enough to deal with the Stormcloaks present. Ulfric and the rest of his Stormcloaks were supposedly on their way up from Morthal. Word was that Morthal had gone over to Ulfric and he was coming in triumphant, to take Skyrim's last holdout city. Word also came in that Ulfric had abandoned his siege of Morthal due to spiders...

"Really?" questioned Erdi. "Spiders?" 

Marcus just shrugged. That's what the quaestor had said.

...and that Ulfric's troops had gotten bogged down in the marsh. No one knew if Ulfric would get to Solitude before the Legion showed up. 

The Stormcloak soldiers had no idea on Nirn what to do. Were they supposed to take Solitude-- if so, why were they not already inside? Or was this merely a feint by Ulfric to draw Legionary forces off, to allow Ulfric to secure Morthal, its surrounding countryside, and the Kreath basin? No one knew. No one could reach Ulfric to find out. So they did nothing.

Snowhammer Yorvik, unlike the other two commanders, had shared with his own subordinates his thoughts on contingency planning. In his stead, Bone-breaker Orgnolf (the quaestor simply shook his head) listened to the many complaints and recalled all of the Stormcloak soldiers from the city. Notably, before his disappearance, Yorvik had advised that he had no trust at all left for General Istvir. Not after Istvir had overridden some matter squarely within Yorvik's discretion and thrown Yorvik's sacred word in the mud. Yorvik had many suspicions. So, Orgnolf-- citing treachery as instructed-- got all of Yorvik's troops out to the ships and gave orders for them to sail homeward, back to the Stormcloak-controlled Pale. 

There were still empty ships, and the Legion was still coming. General Istvir's bewildered soldiers had mostly been convinced to cooperate. Those Stormcloak longships, Erdi remembered, had been low in the water, overladen with passengers.

Quaestor Lorents knew all of this because Orgnolf had remained in the city with a few of his Stormcloaks to maintain the gate and, if possible, to find and retrieve Yorvik. Orgnolf was now on house arrest in the Blue Palace and was happily regaling the Imperials with all of the details of just how Ulfric's latest little expedition had been mishandled. Orgnolf, it seemed, was no longer a true believer.

Yorvik's men had been camped on the rocky hills of the harbor side of Solitude with easy access to boats and ships. General Istvir had demanded the choicer camping spot--flat ground near a mill, with access to a well. That ground was hemmed in by the treacherous currents of the Karth river on the one side and, on the other the sheer cliff-face, above which ran Karthkreath Strand.

[Middas 7th of Frostfall, 4e202]

The hobnailed boots of General Tullius' Legion crunching the white stones of Karthkreath Strand had to have been heard for miles. No death-and-glory for Istvir's remaining men: Tullius' men didn't even bother to engage them directly; those that had attempted to escape they'd let run. Those who surrendered were taken into custody; the few holdouts were picked off with contemptuous ease by a handful of archers, who didn't even have to leave the comfort of the main road.

The only real fighting throughout the whole course of the Solitude Incident occurred when some of the Haafingar-loyalist guardsmen emerged from hiding to fight off the small picket of Stormcloaks that Orgnolf had assigned to secure the main gate.

At first it was no real contest-- while the Stormcloaks suffered losses, they prevailed with ease.

But that attack had been a feint; others came pouring down out of the tower. 

A couple of the loyalist Haafingar guardsmen were downed--

\--but in the end the Stormcloaks surrendered. Orgnolf was very nearly their last man left standing. 

[Fredas, 16th of Frostfall, 4e202] 

"Quaestor Lorents says all this happened just around the time of the afternoon market, when the streets were full of people. Happened right in front of the town crier," said Marcus. "And that was pretty much it-- the front gates got opened to Tullius. People cleared the streets for the Legion coming in and everyone just fell in line." He scratched his chin. "Some excitement here and there-- says a couple civilians got hurt, but mostly it went pretty smoothly."

Where were the rest of the traitorous Haafingar guardsmen? Good question. They had also disappeared, but not unaccountably. It was believed that most had gone back home and hastily burned a few inconvenient shields and belt-rags. Or quit the city. 

 "Have they held the executions yet?" Erdi wanted to know. Her nose wrinkled, she did not want to be around for that. At least this time it would not be Ahtar who had to do it. Poor man.

"No," said Marcus. "The quaestor's been told to tell everyone that the General's sparing what prisoners he has for eventual hostage-exchange, so they're being well-treated. He's also promised that those who, um, 'were in command and are culpable' are going to be sent on to Cyrodiil for trial. And they've paroled a couple of dozen people already."

"I assume that's because Tullius wants to sleep at night," Erdi commented, looking at Castle Dour and the balcony of its commanding officer's apartments from across the breadth of the city. She leaned against the rough stone wall. Military-style retribution for treason against the fractious population of Soltitude-- what would that do, other than create another insurgency? "Tullius is going to get in a lot of trouble later," said Erdi. "Back home. He'll be accused of being too soft."

"Oh, yeah. And he gave this speech that'll really ice that cake," said Marcus. "'Notwithstanding religious affiliation, no one will be turned over to the elves.' and 'We are seeking a full investigation of the circumstances which led such brave and loyal men to such 'desperate measures' to 'get the Imperium's attention'-- and that there would be no further 'disruption of the peace by overzealous officers of the Dominion in violation of the terms set out by the Concordat in regards to curtilage. All citizens will remain safe in the sanctity of their own homes.' What is curtilage?" Marcus wanted to know.

"Big deal word for umm... household property? One's own domus," Erdi explained. And: "That was pretty politic of him to say all that, that way. Thalmor. Overzealous." She snorted.

"I said as much," Marcus agreed. "The quaestor told me that the General wants these coals to die down, not flare back up." 

"Did he ask who you were?" Erdi wanted to know.

Marcus shrugged: "I told him the truth. I'm a buyer for Auryen Morellus at the museum and that I wanted to know what was going on with all this civil unrest."

"Buyer," said Erdi, archly.

Marcus waved a hand. "Sometimes I pay," he admitted. "Maybe even fair price. Sometimes maybe not so much."

"Hah. And I suppose sometimes things are just left lying around for the taking?"

"Auryen says he's happy with my work," Marcus said, demurely.

The city walls had been opened to foot traffic because it was nearly time for the market-carts to come through. Erdi counted many Imperial soldiers along the way. Every Haafingar guard she saw was a stranger to her. She and Marcus went all the way down along the sea-wall toward the largest building near the Blue Palace. "I didn't think anyone would ever buy this place-- it's been sitting vacant forever," she observed. "Tiles were coming down. We kept thinking maybe it would fall over."

"A temple formerly sanctified to Talos? Yeah. Real perks to ownership, including a lovely view of the Thalmor Headquarters--" Marcus pointed upwards at the lone Thalmor standing sentry-duty-- "and personalized attention from its Justiciars." He relented: "The guy who bought this place is an Altmer and one of the heroes of Firsthold from all the way back in the Oblivion Crisis when their tower-of-law fell. Calls the Thalmor 'the current vogue'--" Erdi laughed as Marcus mimicked the old mer's clear disdain--"But they leave him be. Anyways, he's got the backing of the Emperor for this project."

Erdi raised an eyebrow at the sign: "Dragonborn Gallery?" she questioned.

"Yeaaahhh-- he said he wanted to name it after one of the great Nord cultural hero-archetypes, something that goes back to the Merethic--"

 "You're embarrassed," Erdi observed, with great pleasure. She could only see the back of Marcus' head but his skin was flushed from his cropped hair all the way down to below the line of his collar. "Does Aureyn Morellus know that you're one of the--"

Marcus whipped around: "Shut up about that-- I mean it!" he snapped. "Alfgar's the Dovahkiin; that's how it is. That's how it's going to stay. It's no part of me. That was an accident." 

He used the knocker again, more vigorously than he needed to. After a few moments he tried the latch. "Auryen sometimes goes out to dinner or to visit friends," he said. "Since the better bath house is right here, why not take care of that now?" He smiled, a bit apologetically. "I bet I can get them to wash and dry our linen while we wait."

Erdi agreed wholeheartedly. 

An hour later, blessedly and thoroughly and finally clean, Erdi leaned back into the comforting warmth of one of the heated stone couches. "This is wondrous," she said happily. "I don't know why I never thought of going to this place before."

The Solitude Bathhouse, unlike the relative privacy of the shower-rooms and saunas of the Winking Skeever, was Imperial-style, all of its facilities right out in the open so that its patrons could wander about and chat. It had an excellent reputation for cleanliness, particularly as its wardens dealt with attempts at solicitation or other improper conduct immediately, with cudgels. It was only a few steps from the front gates of the Blue Palace, and yet Erdi had always bathed in the servants' quarters or taken herself all the way across the city to the Winking Skeever.

"Eh, if you're mainly wanting dinner you might as well go to the Skeever--food's better," said Marcus. "And it's cheaper." He was lying right beside her on the same couch, even though there was no one near them. These couches were broad enough for big Nords; it was easy enough for the two of them to share, Erdi being slender and Marcus even smaller-boned than herself. His eyes were slitted mostly-closed with relaxation; his skin gleamed where it had been freshly shaven. "But this place is better for the bathing," he said, with great satisfaction. And they have Ksvana, she's a master of the razor."

"Why don't you believe that you're really a Dragonborn?," murmured Erdi. Marcus was too content to move, or to be so easily riled.

"I dunno," he said, his lucent green eyes regarding her. "Why don't you believe you're really an adventurer?"

Erdi exhaled. 

"I'm just a palace maid who keeps thinking she's got the wrong clothes on," she admitted sadly. "Like I was just thinking it was time for me to go out and do my evening check of the garden; then take my break and go for my walk." She looked at Marcus. "Sometimes I would run into Ahtar and we would chat-- he was always encouraging, but..." She paused. Marcus was focused on her, intent. "I couldn't ever find the courage to leave," she admitted. "And right now I don't feel like there's any difference in me--- I don't even look different!" she cried.

"Oh, that's easy," said Marcus. His eyes drifted shut again. "Ksvana can fix that."

So when they were done napping--and the place grew less busy--Marcus took her up to see the regal long-whiskered Khajiit who'd been standing behind the bath's service counter. Erdi was sat in a chair, and her hair tugged her and there; her scalp prodded.

Ksvana agreed with Marcus: "When one does not look the same, one does not think in the same manner, mrrrhm?" She said something quickly in Ta'agra to Marcus, who agreed. "So," she said to Erdi. "Let us discuss some ideas..."

"I don't know," said Erdi later, craning her neck to see if there was a mirror in this place. It was expensive. Surely there was-- She rubbed the nape of her neck. "I've never had it so short. I feel like a boy." 

Marcus grinned. "No you don't," he said, and lunged to pinch her on the bottom, for all as if he were one of those Nibenese swine who used to come in to dance attendance on Elisif. Erdi immediately elbowed him in the chest and stomped on his foot. A brief struggle commenced, until she decisively won the pinching contest. Marcus slapped at at her hands, protesting, until she subsided. 

"Enough, enough," he conceded. "Look, I'm going to get changed and go out for a bit, see what else I can find out. There's a bed in there, you might as well take it. I've got some stuff to do. I'll meet you back in here tomorrow morning."

"It's really terrible," said Erdi. "Isn't it?" She was touching the sharp edges at her nape again. It felt bristly.

Marcus paused. "Nah," he said. "It's good. You look much more confident. Like a woman to be reckoned with. Fierce like a sabrecat." His hands made brief claws, and then he was off to the other room to get his things. 

The bed was lavish enough that Erdi felt uncomfortable using it, but there was no other. It bore fresh linen, though cool and damp from long disuse. She pulled the wool coverlet around herself and fell into dreamless sleep.

[Loredas, 17th of Frostfall 4e202]

Marcus reported back in at dawn, announcing that he had met with various members of the Bard's College and several of the street beggars. Thaena had not been seen in some time. One of the priest's acolytes confided that the little girl was still in the care of the mage-physicians at the Temple of the Divines-- but that Thaena hadn't visited her for a couple of weeks. This, after Thaena had been with her daughter all day every day. Still, Thaena had told the staff she might be gone a few days. She'd last been seen with "that traitor guard-commander" around mid-morning of the the same day-- the third of Frostfall-- that Acting-Captain Jorluf himself had vanished together with General Istvir and Snowhammer Yorvik.

"I think maybe they did it," said Erdi, under her breath. She spoke to Marcus: "Unless somehow they were taken prisoner without anyone knowing about it. Are you sure they're not being held in the Blue Palace?"

Marcus gestured, without looking up. "Reasonably," he said. "I got one of the girls to go down to the jail and hang around for a bit, and she heard nothing." He was going through some papers on his desk. "I doubt she's being held in one of the guest wings-- but that'd be something you could check, right?"

Erdi unhappily agreed this was so.

"So where's Auryen?" she wanted to know, because that worthy was still not present-- and the Museum remained dark and locked tight. This mystery was quickly resolved-- there was a previously overlooked note to Marcus left lying on his desk. Marcus broke the thumbprint seal and handed it to Erdi.

"Headache coming on," he explained, briefly rubbing his forehead and eyes. "Read it for me?" Indeed, his expression was set and tense. He rifled through a couple of the strongboxes he kept there. These seemed mostly empty. He pulled out a few copper coins and stared at them.

Erdi looked up after a moment. "Where's Mournhold? ...and how far away is it?"

"Other side of Morrowind," said Marcus. "Really far away by ship and by land. Does it say how long ago he left?"

"No," said Erdi. "Says he will try to make it back before the winter's freeze up prevents him from coming home, but no promises-- if the weather gets bad early this year he may be stuck."

"Oh, hey, I forgot about this one--" He handed the note over to her; it was oddly stained and crumpled.

Erdi unfolded it dubiously: "Dragonborn-- I need to speak with you--" Her brow rose. "Ooh-- it says "Urgently'-- how long have you had this thing in your pocket?" Marcus snorted. She went on: "Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. A Friend."

"Alfgar gets invited to a lot of --um!--conversations," said Marcus. "And I've heard about at least four 'friends' he's had in Riverwood." He tossed the note towards the desk. "Not important. What IS important is that I have five crates of artifacts and I'm not getting paid. Not any time soon."

Erdi was alarmed: "What are we going to do?" she asked. "I didn't even find any food here."

"It's not a problem," Marcus assured her. "We'll just go down to the market and--" he paused. "Dammit."

"You forgot, didn't you?," accused Erdi. "You can't just drop by Jala's house for lunch." 

"Not so much that," said Marcus. "I think Auryen's contract to supply this place was through her. So now I'm not certain---" He sat back down, thinking. "I'm not sure whether I want to stay here now," he said. "My plan was to help catalog the new artifacts we brought in, but there's a limit to what I can do without Auryen here to-- to explain some of the things to me." He brooded. "I had a little money put aside," he admitted. "But I don't really think it's enough for a whole winter. It's certainly not enough to bring the staff back in here or to get meals out every day."

"What?" Erdi was surprised.

"I can't cook," Marcus confessed. "At least not well enough to save money by doing it. And firewood and horker oil for this place costs a fortune-- there's no way we can stay here without Auryen keeping the building open."

"Huh," Erdi said. "So-- uh."

"What do you suggest that we do?" Marcus asked.

"What?!"

"You're the one in charge," Marcus explained. "Skald gave this job to you. You're the adventurer now, so..." he shrugged. "Figure it out."

Erdi stared after him.

Marcus looked back on his way out: "I'm going to go next door to get some pies from Bendt. No sense thinking on an empty stomach." Then: "Stop panicking about it; you're not alone. I've got some ideas we can talk about when I get back."

Erdi'd had plenty of time to explore the apartment and go through all of its cabinets and drawers. Marcus hadn't been fibbing-- there wasn't much here, and what there was-- some shirts and linen; a couple of sets of tunics and trousers... it wasn't really worth selling. She propped the door to the museum open and cautiously went exploring, but the lights in the library did not turn on from the switch, and it was nearly impossible to see anything. She retreated.

Marcus came back an hour later. "Outside gate to your Pelagius Wing is locked," he reported. "I guess we're going to have to go in through the Blue Palace after all. You think they'll let you in?" He snickered. "Guess you shouldn't have sold that elven armor."

Erdi looked at him wide-eyed. Then: "If we broke in tonight I might be able to get Una's key. I know where she keeps it."

Marcus winced. He said: "That is not a good way to approach this business. Kind of learned the hard way. Any other thoughts?"

"No one's going to just hand over that key," said Erdi. "Hm. Truthfully if I was Falk-- and someone'd gone missing with one key-- I'd be securing the other."

"Can you get to Elisif?"

"I don't know," said Erdi, soberly. "And I'm not certain we ought to trust her good will. Anyways it's not as if she would have it--"

"I have a couple of ideas that might get us in," said Marcus. "Let's go see some friends of mine." He paused. "More like business acquaintances. You already know them."

"Well, yes, of course we're familiar with Marcus." Endarie sniffed. "Which is precisely why we sent him away to ask you: are you sure you're all right?"

Taarie broke in-- "He hasn't wanted you to go and 'talk to a friend of his' or anything, has he? Told you that you're going to go to 'a party'? Had any dealings with the Argonians?"  
"Asked you to hold on to some property of his? Wants you to go someplace you don't want to go?" Her eyes narrowed. "Asked you to--"

"No, madame," said Erdi to Endarie, feeling very low and sheepish. "We're not like that-- we don't do that. He's um... Marcus is kind of doing what I want him to do right now for some reason. He's been very good. I don't know why." She wet her lips. "I think he feels kind of bad about what happened with Cyrelian. He didn't mean to shoot at him and he really didn't mean for him to burn up all of his magicka like that."

"Hm. That's not how magicka-burn works at all, really," Endarie said, once everything was explained. "But you couldn't be expected to know that. Was he still alive when you left?" 

"Cyr wasn't in good shape," said Erdi. "He was pretty sick. But we got him on the ship to Winterhold."

"Well, that is something," said Taarie, grimly. "I was afraid he was going to be another one of our little lost ventures." She tapped the counter. "You might as well get that boy back in here; we've got a lot of work to do." She scowled at Erdi. "And you can tell him the bill's going to come due to him, too."

"Um," said Erdi.

"How you two settle things is up to you," said Taarie. "But if nothing else we want him to sign for it."

"Worst case, we can wring payment out of Auryen Morellus," said Endarie. "So don't you worry about it."

"So," said Marcus-- "Erdi needs to go to the Blue Palace, but she doesn't want anyone there to recognize her immediately-- she's the only one who can listen in and talk to the right people and find out what... what's going on."

The two elf ladies did not know anything about recent events at the Blue Palace. They had made a few deliveries but had received no new orders lately. So no real news to report.

"I don't know if you remembered how I looked before," said Erdi. "When I was-- you know. But I need to look totally different. And I need to be dressed well enough to pass in the audience chambers. They keep the service staff and other servants out of there during audience hours."

"Of course I recall how you presented yourself," said Endarie, haughtily. "It's my job to remember. It's what we do." Then she surprised Erdi:

"I remember what you looked like when you first came to Solitude-- that was when Silana Petraia brought you by and we had to get you cleaned up--"

"-- Such a beautiful young thing." Elodie sighed, wistfully.

"Do you remember that little beach gala Istlod threw for Torygg?" Taarie put in. "All those old-Empire costumes..."

"All that sand we had to brush out," said Endarie. And: "Were you still with the Temple of Dibella then, my dear?"

"No," said Erdi. "I had withdrawn." She sighed. "I'm no priestess. I had to do it-- that was a condition of my accepting the appointment to court in Haafingar."

"Well then," said Endarie briskly. "If the people at the Blue Palace are idiots who want to throw the jewels of their court into the dustbin, that's... But I would say that you always carried yourself as a credit to that company."

"And to our little enterprise," put in Taarie.

 "Thank you," said Erdi, surprised. The ladies had always seemed so brusque. But there was really no other possible response. 

"So I do think we can help-- in fact I think we have just the thing in the back," said Endarie. "But there will be expenses-- wear and tear and such. And if there are losses--"

"I understand," said Erdi. "I'll try not to drop any ouches or pearls."

"What do you think... sister dear?" Endarie's voice shifted on the last two words. Arch. Dismissive.

"I hardly think she'll carry off the purple," said Taarie, as if this conversation could be of no possible interest.

"Oh, so it will have to be the green, then?" Endarie made a moue. "Well, it can't be helped. Go on then--"

She beckoned Erdi over to Taarie and the shop's back rooms. "Because I suppose I will have to go and open the door, because it seems as though someone--" Acid, again. "--has forgotten that we need to actually open the business for our... gracious customers." Endarie went, in languid hauteur, to unlatch the front door.

"Here," said Taarie, rapidly. "I think we'd best not pick-and-choose, let's put the whole outfit on and see how it does. If there are alterations to be done--"

"My," said Erdi. "What is this stuff?"

"Brocaded silk satin," said Taarie. "Not the silk twill we generally used for you. It can be pretty but--" She sniffed. "I think this lot is pretty gaudy, don't you?" 

"I think it's fine," said Erdi--

"-- I'm just really grateful to have pants. What do you think of it?"

Marcus looked her up and down.

"Do you really think I can pass as some lady from Alcaire?" Erdi questioned. "Or does it look too much like a costume? I feel like a court jester."

Marcus wanted to know, could she carry off the accent? 

Because the outfit was so very clearly one from Alcaire, and... this would not do, if it were to be ruined the moment Erdi opened her mouth.

Taarie smiled. "We have another one in the back," she said to Marcus. "I don't suppose you favor purple?" She showed a little more malice: "It will only need a little bit for alteration," she said. "Don't fear; I shall not have to stick you too many times."

The rather elaborate outfit proved to need almost no changes at all-- the fit could be effected rather swiftly by sewing him into it. 

"Stop it," said Taarie, at his pretended flinch. "Beauty is suffering." She tucked another pin in her sleeve. "Besides, you're certainly one of those who's well paid-for-the-dressing, hmm?-- and you know it. Quit fretting."

"Endarie?" Erdi called. "What do you think?"

"Jephre's song!" Endarie put down her chalk. "Taarie, come look at this."

"Well, that's certainly remarkable," said Taarie. "In fact..."

"--Are you seeing it?"

"Oh, I certainly think so," said Endarie. "This will do perfectly. Cousins, I think. Not-- siblings," She made a crooning noise. "Cousins maybe just a little bit too close," she said.

She and Taarie laughed at their own private joke.

Marcus sighed almost inaudibly behind his teeth and then smiled more brightly. "Wondrous," he said. "I look forward to the rest of the afternoon. Are you all going to charge us extra if we wear out the knees in these things?--" He looked at Erdi sidelong. "Or am I just gonna have to make out with you in full view of the court?"

Erdi kept a grip on his hand to keep him still.

"Not necessary. Just let's stay out of arms' reach of Thane Erikur," she counseled.

The shop door rang.

"It's just Fironet," called Taarie with relief. And-- "Have some of the cider, dear-- Any news from the Skeever?"

"Lorion's getting pretty discouraged," said the young woman. "I've never seem him like this." She took a long drink. "I hate seeing him like this. It's really not his fault, but he keeps thinking there's something else he could have done. Something more he could do." She sighed. "It's inevitable but he just doesn't want to face it."

"Try not to dwell on it," said Taarie. "He'll work his way through, not to fear. Come over here and tell me what you think about our friends over here. Have I got them put together properly?" Taarie frowned. "I'm never quite certain about those cravats--"

"Neck-cloths," said Fironet.

"Pardon me, I'm sure," said Taarie, frowning as if she were making a mental note. "Neck-cloths. Is the rest of it--"

"Not too bad," said Fironet. "Maybe loosen the belts a little before you get into court-- you're supposed to look a little sloppy."

"So-- " said Taarie. "Is it believable they could be cousins from Alcaire?"

"Siblings," said Erdi, firmly.

Elodie gave a low mocking whistle.

"Cousins AND siblings," said Marcus, modelling the accent. He gave Erdi a little air kiss. "It eeees High Rock."

Fironet coughed, stifling laughter.

Erdi swatted at him.

"Go get the hats and wigs," said Taarie. "I want to see how the two of you look with the same hair, too."

The bell rang again and Endarie scowled. "Go to the back, the two of you. We'll take care of this quickly."

Erdi showed off the hat-and-wig to Marcus and frowned. "So what do you think?" she asked.

"I'm thinking I should have talked you into the purple one---" said Marcus.

"... it's got a smaller codpiece."

"Marcus!" Erdi stomped a foot. "I wanted to know if you thought it would work. It's a concern, you know-- all it's going to take is for the wrong person to know my face."

"Just stand behind me and don't speak," Marcus suggested. "All we need to do is find out whether anyone is being held in the Blue Palace-- or, perhaps, broke into the Blue Palace-- and if no one seems to know anything at all, try the inside door to the Pelagius Wing and see if we can sneak in. See what's what. If not, I guess we can try your idea of breaking in from the outside..."

He looked Erdi up and down. "Just try to carry yourself with a little confidence, will you--"

Erdi put on an arrogant swagger: "Will thees do?" she demanded, mocking the accent.

Marcus reluctantly reached for his wig-and-hat.

"It will have to do," he said.

"Come along," said Erdi. "We need to get going-- don't want to miss afternoon court." She pinched Marcus' arm and he clutched at his mortal wound, groaning piteously and limping.

Taarie let them out the back, and unlocked a little-used gate in the far wall. A tiny stair led up to the tower which led to the seawall parapet-walk.

"What a lovely day for a promenade," said Erdi, brightly. And then, sharply: "Marcus? Do you happen to know what day this is?"

Marcus was also smiling brightly. "I'm pretty sure it's Loredas, and can we move along, please? I'm freezing. The wind's getting in under these stupid tights."


	3. Courtesy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disguised as High Rock nobles from Alcaire, Erdi and Marcus enter the Blue Palace and obtain the key to the Pelagius Wing. But when they enter, they find nothing but the stench of a great evil. Suddenly they are transported to a little clearing in a barren land; to a table presided over by a certain Daedric Prince...

"Complain one more time about that codpiece and you'll be wearing it up around your neck," snarled Erdi.

Marcus grinned and ducked away from her but at least he was moving forward again. They caught up to the end of a line of a little procession of poorly-dressed nobles and well-dressed merchant-house denizens-- social climbers, one and all. They should fit right in, thought Erdi.

Marcus set his hat and nose at the arrogant tilt expected of a nobleman from Alcaire and ostentatiously offered his arm. Erdi laid her hand upon it, and they paraded up to the gate without incident.

The majordomo stabled them in one of the foyers with instructions to stay put until called. They watched and listened.

"Well?" demanded Marcus, as soon as they were alone. "Where?"

"Kitchens," decreed Erdi. "Odar's taking a break till it's time to begin dinner service. He'll talk to me. He won't tell on me. His helpers should be long since done with prep. Housemaids and kitchen-maids take a late luncheon in their duty room. So they'll be gone."

Marcus got up and caught the majordomo's attention-- the privy? With a flourish, he held the door open for Erdi. She ducked into the service hallway as directed but then ran the other direction and glanced around a few corners. Clear. She went back and pushed the door open slightly for Marcus and he followed her in. The two of them made their way to the kitchens. 

"Oh thank you Dibella," Erdi sighed, with relief. Odar was there, going over one of his account books. When Odar looked up, his eyebrows raised-- but then he smiled.

 Odar denied ever seeing Thaena, and apart from Bone-breaker Orgnolf (who was up in his suite busily decimating Odar's supplies of Alto wine and sweetrolls), Odar knew of no Stormcloak prisoners. "Can't hide anyone here from me," he said, happily. "I've got every apple and horker loaf accounted for." He frowned, as if his authority were called into question. "Who do you think orders the food for the prison, hm?" He folded his arms. "And I go down there myself personally to see that Sigurd keeps the mess in good order."

And certainly no one had tried to breach the walls of the Blue Palace or come invading in through one of its gates. What a foolish question. Did they see Tullius' men everywhere underfoot in here? No? Well, then.

Marcus scratched at his chin. He wanted to talk to Odar about provisioning. Erdi poked him. "Not now!" She looked at Odar and said-- "Don't let him keep you from your nap, Odar. I just need to find someone who can tell me where Una put up my things and then we'll be going on." She smiled. "We've eaten. Your sweetrolls are safe."

Almost immediately she and Marcus had a disagreement about how they would go forward.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "That's a ridiculous idea-- what if you get caught?"

Marcus raised his eyebrows: "Do you know what the penalty is for pickpocketing in the Riften market?" He held up both hands and wiggled them, demonstrating that he still had all of his fingers. "I can handle myself. Anyways if the gentleman's as self-involved as you say he is..."

"... he'll hardly notice a thing. I know what I'm doing."

"Besides, if I get caught I'll just pass it off as a silly prank and do a few sleight-of-hand tricks for them-- if you see that happen, you get out."

"I don't think so," said Erdi. "It's going to be tricky enough to get to the Pelagius Wing door without anyone noticing anything funny. I still say we should let me try to get Elisif's attention."

She shifted uncomfortably. Marcus didn't need to know about the rest of it. Better no one knew.

Marcus shook his head. "Just let me try-- if it doesn't look like I'm going to get a good shot, I'll let it go. We can see if I can get that lock picked instead."

"Una probably has it after all," Erdi predicted, glumly. 

"Maybe," said Marcus. "We'll see."

They slunk back to the foyer, anticipating a lecture from the majordomo-- but that worthy took one look at Erdi's flushed, angry face... and smirked. Prick, thought Erdi. But, if that's what he was thinking, he might be useful, later. She made note of him. 

The majordomo'd been around when Erdi was still a maid, but he was rather new to Solitude. Their duties had not overlapped, and the two of them had never spoken. He had not recognized her.

As soon as the next important-personage had been led out, Marcus made his move.

Erdi watched Marcus go up the Great Stair and disappear.

After a couple of minutes the majordomo came back down.

"Where's your friend?" he asked, bewildered.

Erdi raised her pointed chin: "We had.... the argument," she hazarded, in a feeble attempt at an Alcaire accent. She sniffled, blinking rapidly. "Can I just get out of here quickly? Please?"

Thankfully the obviously-Nibenese majordomo had no appreciation of the fine distinctions of dialect for Breton noblewomen; all he did was roll his eyes. But at least he brought Erdi up much closer to the head of the line:

"You are next after Mercia Black-Briar. Please take the left-hand stair. Come forward when the housecarl beckons you, and make your courtesy at the dais. Do you understand?"

Erdi gave him a little bow.

Well. This was all new. This was somewhat beyond what a mere jarl might expect, or demand. It was more like the honors due a High Queen or an Empress. Hm.

Marcus was moving around through the throng of nobles causing no real incident. She saw him smile and nod at Thane Bryling, and work his way towards the refreshment table, for all the world a bored young nobleman trying to cadge a snack without drawing notice.

Erdi tried to ignore what he was doing. She kept her hat at a rakish angle to keep her face from being too visible to the guards. There was nothing different about the guardsmen's numbers or placement or stance. Odar had told the truth; nothing had happened inside the Blue Palace itself.

Elisif hadn't even looked up as Erdi'd made her bow-- she'd been deep in conversation with some Redguard. Apparently the man was annoying her. Erdi took note of what the extremely frustrated diplomat was saying: More complaints about lawlessness on the Karthkreath Strand; in the border towns and in the valleys and redoubts of the Haafingar Reach.

"So much for that," she muttered to Marcus, as he caught up with her. She hadn't seen him get anywhere near Falk Firebeard at all. Grudgingly, she took his arm, a bit too roughly.

"What'd I do?" he asked, leaning in.

"Behave! Just like we talked about!" Erdi snapped. Someone behind them chuckled, thinking he was getting schooled.

They promenaded back to the waiting-room together. It was full of courtiers milling about for court to be over so they could go and change for dinner. Thankfully they were all up front, to see and be seen. Marcus and Erdi were able to push their way to a less-occupied corner.

"Fait accompli," Marcus murmured, as soon as they were alone enough. He flashed a grin. "I've had a bit of Breton," he said, his tongue flicking over his lower lip.

"What? I didn't even see--" 

Marcus hushed her. "I have it. As soon as they call everyone in for dinner, let's go--somehow I don't think we're on that seating chart."

There was one bad moment after court was dismissed and Gisli I-am-Not-the-Thane passed too close to them, but Marcus turned and kissed Erdi on the cheek, noisily. His cap-and-feather screened Erdi's face from view, just long enough.

As soon as the first bell rang, the courtiers began to make their way to the dining hall.

Erdi led Marcus back through the service corridors, ducking out a couple of times to avoid a passing servant, until they came to a small door leading into an empty hall. Mostly empty, except for a large elaborate door.

"Let me go in first," Erdi warned. "I know what it's supposed to look like in there."

Marcus handed her the brass key. It was still warm from being under his doublet. She hoped that's where he'd been keeping it.

Carefully Erdi opened the door of the Pelagius Wing and stepped inside, closing the door behind herself.

There was no sound at all inside, not even the scurrying of rats.

Erdi could see streaks in the dust where it had been recently disturbed. Some of the cups and pitchers had fallen or been tossed aside and were now lying on the floor.

She walked a cautious circuit of the long hall and returned.

"All right, you can try coming in now," she said. Marcus pushed in past her and looked about. 

"Not too bad," he commented. "I expected a lot worse from what you said...What's with the flute?"

Erdi looked at her hands in confusion.

"I-- don't know," she confessed. "Didn't I have it when I went in?" She looked at it. "It's my flute," she said. "Had it with me the whole time. Right?" A niggling corner of her mind questioned: Have you ever even owned a flute?

"I... think so?" Marcus hazarded. He looked a bit disoriented. After a moment he went to sit down on the lone intact bench. "I need to sit down for a bit," he said. "And get used to this place first. It's nasty."

To his mage-sense, he meant.

"Play something," Marcus suggested. "Maybe it's for you to lure all of the rats and spiders off to Riften, or maybe it's to scare off the revenants that lurk in the-"

Erdi hushed him. "Don't even--" and, more thoughtfully: "It's been a long time... let me see.." She had played a little at the Khajiit camp, the night of the party-- but that had not been...

Erdi began to play a song, an old one she'd learned long ago, from Markarth. The stone walls seemed to soak in the sound. When she finally stumbled to its conclusion, she looked around.

"Do you feel anything different?" she asked Marcus. "Anything change?"

He was frowning a little. "There was something," he said. "Some kind of presence? I didn't like it. But it's kind of backed off--I can't feel it as much anymore. Like it was right here watching us, but now it's paying attention to something else."

 "Let's go on," Erdi directed, setting the flute down on one of the stacked crates.

Marcus looked up and down the hall. "Some spiders," he commented. "Maybe we should have tried to bring my crossbow into the city."

"I don't think anyone went back in here after what Una said happened to her," said Erdi. "Still-- it hasn't even been more than a year." She brushed some stickiness off onto her glove. "It shouldn't be nearly this bad." Her jaw clenched. "What is that terrible smell?" That was the rot of a human body; she had smelled that before.

"Let me go ahead," cautioned Marcus.

"Nothing here," Marcus reported, pushing his way back through tattered streamers of webbing. "Couldn't see anything wrong at all. It's kind of pretty, the light through the windows, isn't it? Too bad they can't use this space because of all this foul--"

"Did you hear that?" Erdi hissed.

Both hurriedly retreated.

"The wind," Erdi said, after a long moment.

Marcus pointed at the wall-- "I think that's a handprint," he said. "Has that been there? Like, the whole time, that's been here?"

Erdi said, nervously-- "Nooo." And then: "Maybe."

"Huh. Could be blood, could be mud or dirt," said Marcus. "I just asked because I didn't notice it earlier, when we came in. Should we go back for weapons?"

"No!" Erdi wetted her lips. "Trust me, that would be very very bad."

"So... are you um.. able to sense any magickal uh..."

"No," said Marcus, grimly. "This whole place reeks of blood magick. It's worse than a draugr tomb." He paused. "I don't think there's anything moving around down there, though."

"Did you see any bodies?" Erdi asked, nervously.

"Not so much as a dead skeever," Marcus assured her.

"It really, really stinks--what was this place?" Marcus whispered. "Gods, something terrible was here..."

"I think it was just a reception area for the High Kings back in the Third Era," Erdi said, nervously. "There shouldn't have been anything all that bad that happened back here. I think the last High Queen who used this space was Potema Septim--"

"Haven't you learned yet, little one, not to speak of a revenant lest she appear? Hm?"

Erdi gave vent to a shriek. She stood clutching her chest, panting, then recovered. She'd expected this all along, but experiencing it again was another matter altogether.

Marcus had immediately leapt away from her, cat-like, clapping his hand to his side to draw a sword which was not there. He turned about in a circle, staring in confusion as the ripples of translocation magicka faded.

Erdi waved Marcus down. "Stop-stop-stop," she warned him. "None of that will help."

Then she took a breath. 

Confidence, Marcus had said.

So-- she stepped forward smartly to make her bow.

"Here I am, sir," she said cheerily, and looked about in mock puzzlement. "Did I get the date wrong? Do you-- have other guests present?" She lowered her voice. "Shall we just leave our cards?"

"Ha!" bellowed the brightly-clad person on the throne. "See that? I was just thinking to myself, it must be right about--- and there you are! Right on time." He nodded graciously. "How very courteous."

Erdi bowed again. "Third Loredas in Frostfall," she acknowledged. "I was afraid I was going to be late-- and I was a little confused about the year, but.... Here I am!" And: "My," she said. "What a lovely spread. Tea AND wine? Oh, and a mammoth snout! You needn't have gone to all this trouble for just me."

 The Daedric prince frowned and indicated the others present: "Apparently I didn't. You know, these functions are rather exclusive... I can't let just anyone in here to wander around--"

"Ah--" said Erdi-- "Um. Marcus is my plus-one--" She looked around. "Marcus?" 

Marcus had wandered off in bewilderment, staring at the broken and tattered trees, distressed. 

"We'll get to that one in a moment," said the seemingly-human man, waving a hand dismissively. "Needs no introduction. Known each other practically since the Merethic. But WHO are all of these other people trampling through here? Did you send them in here? Because they think you did." He sniffed. "It's taken quite a toll on the landscaping. And I don't mind saying, Pelly's--"

He pointed at his temple and rolled his eyes upward. "Upset. Or maybe it's the other one. And they say I'm the mad one. Really!" And then, voice lowered to a more confidential tone: "Entrails," he said to Erdi. "The man keeps chattering about entrails..." he began to mutter.. "Such a disaster of a mess. And we haven't enough chairs to seat everyone..."

The Stormcloak sitting in the furthest chair stood up and offered his place to Erdi. "No call for seein' entrails," he said, pleasantly. "Puts quite a damper on the conversation really. Have a seat miss, didn't catch your name--" His tone was mild and good-humored; and all the while his eyes were coldly measuring the distance between himself and the man-shaped creature on the throne. He still had his own weapons. But he went on, in that soft-spoken yet somehow compelling voice-- "Speaking of guts 'n gore, that reminds me of this time I was on my way down from Helgen with this goatherd lass. Storm came up, and we was right at the cliff face, and..."

Erdi, rather nervously, sat down. Her hands closed round a cup of tea that hadn't been there a moment previously. She sipped. Alani-blossom. Rare. Expensive. She tried to make it last. She didn't know where Marcus had gone, but she wasn't going to be able to worry about him for the moment.

The Nord kept his eyes on the Daedric prince, and the moment that one's attention faltered, smoothly wove his anecdote to a conclusion:

"So-- no fooling, there we was, and then the bear stands up on its hind legs, pretty as you please, and the General looks at me and says..em, pardon: 'Calvus? What the fuck happened to my dogs?'... And I had to say..."

He was met with immediate applause: "Tell us another one!"

"Oh, now. Think it's probably time I stopped putting myself forward. I'll cede the floor here to my good friend Istvir here. Let him have his chance, hey?" The Nord nodded equably. "Do you mind if I have a quick word with the young lady?"

Tribune Calvus, thought Erdi. Ahtar's old friend. The one who would have let them go. Snowhammer Yorvik, now.

"What in the Sixteen Planes is this place?" His voice was still well-controlled, but Erdi could smell him. Fear-sweat. Panic.

"I-- think you're right, Thane," said Erdi, quietly. She still held her cup of tea. "It's a daedric realm of some kind."

"Gods! And your elves sent us here? To trap us in this place? Why?"

Erdi was shaking her head. "Pretty sure the elf told you to take your men and go on home," she said. "The Thalmor have nothing to do with this. I'm the one who sent you here."

"You want me to take care of this, Snowhammer?" said the young warrior who'd been eavesdropping. He stood up and glared at Erdi threateningly. He had his weapons, too.

"Settle down!" snapped Thane Yorvik. "I've had about enough of you." And, to Erdi: "What did we do to you, to deserve this?" 

"Could ask the same of you, Yorvik," called the woman at the near end of the table, the one who'd been crying quietly. "What right have you, to take me away from my little girl? Dragging her out of my arms, bringing me to this place--"

"That would be General Istvir's prerogative," said Yorvik. "If you'll recall, that was his command. He insisted I come along as well." His voice was still under control, but he took a quick couple of breaths. Yorvik was very angry, Erdi realized. "I told him to leave you out of this."

"So I'm to blame for bringing us to this hellscape?" Istvir pointed at Erdi. "I came here to claim my throne! That little bitch over there's the one who gave us the false key!"

Thane Yorvik folded his arms: "Whose throne now?" he asked, almost gently.

"You know full well what the High King promised me--" Istvir bellowed. 

The delighted laughter of the creature on the high seat rose, echoing, to fill the mists around them.

"Sit down, my friends," he said. 

It was not a suggestion; within a blink they were immediately seated again. Erdi alone remained standing, near the corner of the table. Yorvik looked around, shrugged, and once more got up to offer Erdi his chair. She hesitated.

"I'm afraid I have the disadvantage," Erdi said. "Because you all seem to know each other, but I'm the odd one out."

The Daedric Prince gestured: "Shall we have introductions, then? And a brief statement about why, hm, you should keep your own entrails? Or your eyes? Excellent! I'll start." He raised his cup to their company. "Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, at your service. Welcome to the mad mind of Pelagius the Third. I'm afraid he's sulked off to one of his nightmares." He drank. "Just as well. All he does is complain about his teeth and how exhausting it is to torture prisoners to death." He slapped his goblet down heedlessly and the wine-lees spattered over the table. "So--" he looked meaningfully towards Erdi-- "Who are they?"

"Maybe they ought to introduce themselves," said Erdi.

"Please," said the woman at the end. "Thaena Skaldsdottir. I'm a-- a lawthane in Dawn-- in Winterhold, now. Please. I need to get back to my daughter. My little girl. She's very ill." She rubbed her face. "I'm the jarl's wife..." her voice trailed off. "but that's not so important. She'll die without me. She'll be so scared. Please." And then, even more quietly. "I don't understand all this talk of entrails and eyes. But she needs my help."

"Stop whining," said the Nord sitting beside Thaena, the one with the ridiculous hair who had threatened Erdi. He put his arm on the back of Thaena's chair, ostensibly for support, but Erdi could see how she slumped away from it. "Kolb," he said, sneering. "I'm one of Ulfric's warriors, what more needs said? Stop fooling with us. Kill us or let us go."

The big man in the bearskin helm growled: "Istvir Istvanssen, kinsman and general to the Stormcloak. I don't know who you are or what you want, so you'd best say it. Let us out."

 There was a tongue-click of reproof at him as the oldest man stood: "Thane Yorvik of Helarchen; great-grandson of Horst the Wanderer, kin to this young lady's husband--" he nodded at Thaena-- "and serving at the pleasure of her father, Jarl Skald Felgeif of the Pale. Guess I need both eyes and guts to do that, heh." He picked up his cup to toast the company. "Formerly Tribune Calvus Quintus, longest assignment to the 17th Legion, 4th Castra; now retired and resigned with all perquisites forfeit to the Empire, which I will serve no longer. These days, Snowhammer in the Skaldi Regiment of Ulfric's Stormcloaks." He shook his head. "Apologies for the young ones here, they've not learned manners." He nodded graciously to Erdi.

"My name is Erdi. Of Haafingar, I suppose. I'm not really from anywhere else. I came here from Jehenna. I'd like to keep my eyes and guts? I have become..." her voice firmed. "An adventurer. At your directive-- at your kind suggestion, sir. But I'm not very good at it yet."

"What adventure?" she was asked. Sheogorath was beaming at the flattery.

"I'm on a mission to bring two of these people home," said Erdi. "And maybe a couple of keys to return?" 

"Oh?" Sheogorath cocked his head. "Which two?"

Erdi's gaze darted about. Istvir and his guard were trying to stare her down. Thaena was huddled in her chair as far away from Kolb as she could get. Thane Yorvik simply looked back at her with those cool, measuring eyes.

"Rather not say," Erdi said, nervously. "I um.. I 'd better go find Marcus," She began to edge away from the table.

"Told you not to worry about that one. Comes and goes like a cat," said Sheogorath.

"Where are we?" Marcus called, from across the field. He began to make his way back over to them.

Erdi winced, but the mad god just laughed. "Could tell you weren't in the Shivering Isles, hah? Can't fool you. You're in the mind of the Mad Emperor, Pelagius the Third. Who so graciously volunteered to stay behind to. You know. Take care of an awkward little family affair." He waved his hands. "You know. WoooooOOooh. Oh. We're In the past! I think. Or maybe it's the future." He laughed again, with delight, and spoke to Marcus: "Glad you stopped back in. It's been so awfully boring! Until now." He frowned. "This your first time? Could swear you were here..." 

"You'll give information to these little bitches but not to us?" demanded General Istvir. "Enough of this. Let us out!"

"Stop touching her!" snapped Thane Yorvik abruptly. Kolb grudgingly pulled his arm away from the back of Thaena's chair. She scooted further away from him.

"Where did you find these people?" asked Sheogorath, raising an eyebrow at Erdi.

"I really am very sorry," said Erdi.

"How polite of you to say so," Sheogorath rejoined. 

Erdi shrugged. 

"At any rate," he said. "You have a choice." He smiled at Erdi. "You can leave.. in one piece... in several pieces maybe-- Or, you can help me put my good friend Pelagius back to mmm...sleep or wherever it is he's supposed to be... and go on home."

"All right..." said Erdi, cautiously.

The mad god held up a finger. "Consequences for your choices," he warned. "Take care."

"I came here to get these people and I really shouldn't leave without them," said Erdi. "If Pelagius is asleep, what happens to his mind world when he wakes up?"

Sheogorath shrugged. "It dissolves. It's gone. Matter of a few minutes, really." He leaned forward. "It's a metaphysical blockage," he whispered. "Clogging up the void space. It's impeding you-know-who. She can't get through. Really, it's gotten her knickers in quite a twist! Be interesting once it's gone. Won't it?"

Istvir vented more profanity-laced threats. 

Erdi flinched.

Sheogorath whispered: "Three paths. I'll give you one for each path. Give you one, and give HER one..." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "But I think SHE can have them already dead. She doesn't care about the living. So. Think that's fair?"

"Do I really have a choice?" asked Erdi.

"Ha! Now you're learning," said Sheogorath.

And, his expression chilling: "No. There is no choice. You do what I want. Everyone here does. Or..." he frowned as if his thoughts were unpleasant, then shrugged. "Eh. Nevermind." 

With that, he sat back in his chair and looked up at his newest friend with anticipation: "You were saying?"

"Well that was about it," said Thane Yorvik, now standing over the sullen Kolb, spiked gauntlet at the ready. "Never did find those dogs. But that reminds me-- did I ever tell ya the one about the Jarl's favorite stud-horse and the Last Seed horker hunt..."

General Istvir groaned.


	4. From Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erdi has entered the Pelagius Wing of the Blue Palace, to find her quarry being detained by Lord Sheogorath himself. Sheogorath has given herself and her companion Marcus-- especially Marcus-- a warm welcome, and told her he's willing to let her try to bring some of these people home, if she does something for him. She's agreed to accept Sheogorath's challenge.
> 
> Three quests, the Prince has said. Erdi can take one person to safety, per quest completed.
> 
> So she and Marcus set out to try to solve these puzzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Dead people!
> 
> Also, ah, tentacles, but you'll have to talk to Marcus about that.

"What're you doing?" Marcus complained. "I was hoping you'd keep him distracted till I could find a way out!"

Erdi caught him by the arm: "You idiot! We're in some place controlled by the Prince of Madness. You're not going to find a way out." Even as she pulled him back to the banquet-table, Marcus kept scanning the horizon. 

"There's always a way out," he muttered.

Erdi tried to impress upon him the importance of being respectful.

"Here we are," Erdi said, cheerily. "May I present my friend Marcus?" She smiled.

Marcus came forward, knelt prettily, doffed his hat, and put it back on.

Sheogorath was already up out of his throne.

"Please, please. Have a seat, have a seat!" he urged. "Forgive my earlier rudeness, I just..." the mad god essayed a sheepish smile. "I just didn't want to be a pest!" He lowered his voice a bit. "Does this mean we're finally going to get a new chapter?"

Marcus looked blank. 

The Prince of Madness groaned:

"I'm sorry, that sounded SO very entitled didn't it? Did it? Oh, please, please just tell me... you haven't abandoned it. Have you?!"

Marcus whispered: "What is he talking about?"

Erdi wrung her hands: "I have no idea!"

Sheogorath dropped his voice. "Since you're here-- I don't wish to be, mm-- critical-- but I REALLY don't know where you've been going with these past couple of updates. All of a sudden, we're into this stream-of-consciousness narrative and I'm not even certain whether I'm supposed to be following along in earnest, or whether it's just that literary trick of making the reader the unreliable narrator...And then there's the last chapter, completely back to the usual..." his hands flipflopped. "I'm confused-- but I'm just SO invested." Even more quietly: "I think most of us are. Sooo... might I suggest an author's note? Or--" he winced. "Please tell me you're going to pick it up again." He smiled, hopefully. "It's SO very much my ...mm.. flavor of jam?"

"I um.. I really haven't written anything of uh.. note," said Marcus, still with his courtier's smile. "I uh... can kind of draw things? Notes to myself?" Erdi, rather frantically, tried to get him to stop talking. "I don't really write at all," Marcus admitted. "Not well, anyways."

"Ahh go on" said Sheogorath, indulgently. "But where are my manners? I shouldn't be such a bother-- this is a social occasion. Sit, sit and I'll introduce you around." He waved down Erdi-- "Stop all that fretting."

"Everyone, THIS is-- my very good friend. Um. Well. I just wanted to say that I'm uh... I hope I'm not puffing myself up to much to say that I'm uh, the biggest fan. We've had our disagreements in the past.. I will TRY to be less of a stalker... no more little presents! ha!-- and I'm so happy to see that...um. Anyways! There's a nice little Colovian red. Anvil region."

"Hi," said Marcus, to the assembled company. "Thanks. I have no idea what he's going on about." He accepted the cup of wine, raised it to the others, and drank. He raised his eyebrows. "Pretty good," he said.

"You try being a mad emperor sometime," said Sheogorath, agreeably. "Or a mad god. You get all the best vintages."

Marcus paused to consider. "Why do I get the feeling that's way too much work?" He finished off the cup.

Sheogorath raised his own cup in return and chuckled appreciatively. 

"So. Hate to continue to be rude," Sheogorath went on. "Can't help but notice some other changes. What do you ah-refer to yourself as these days?" 

Once again Marcus' face looked completely baffled. He looked to Erdi for rescue. She made a swift little hand gesture back-- she didn't know. Figure it out, she mouthed.

"You know," said the mad god, writhing with embarrassment, almost dancing. "Thing-thing. You know. Agh! Pronoun. Since you're presenting yourself completely differently." His head cocked, and he regarded Marcus more closely. "Sort of," he grudged.

"I'm going to let you handle this one," Erdi murmured to Marcus. 

Marcus made a small noise of distress.

Someone tapped Erdi on the shoulder and she turned aside, grateful for the distraction.

"I want to speak with you again," said Thane Yorvik, to her. He surveyed Thaena and Kolb, grimly. "You," he directed Kolb. "Stand over there. No. All the way over there." Kolb gave him an evil look, but complied.

Yorvik indicated the furthest-away seat to Thaena, who got up and slid into it gratefully.

Just as Thaena did so, a plate with a sizzling baked potato and fish steak materialized in front of her, perfuming the air with oil-and-garlic. Erdi's mouth instantly watered.

"I'm sorry," she heard Thaena said mournfully. "It's so rich! I don't think I can eat--Eeep!" 

Erdi looked over again.

A sandwich had appeared in Thaena's hand. Was it ham-and-butter? Thaena began to eat it. "Thank you, Lord Sheogorath," she said, wanly.

Erdi regarded Kolb warily as Yorvik began to speak again. He wasn't any too happy with what Yorvik was urging Erdi to do, and she was a bit concerned he would take matters into his own hands. Thankfully, Istvir had gone over behind some bushes and Kolb didn't seem to want to act without him present.

Erdi agreed with Yorvik, cautiously, and backed away.

If she could get anyone out it would be Thaena, first. 

Well, probably herself and Marcus. 

But then Thaena. 

The soldiers could look after themselves.

Marcus was still completely flustered, backing away from Sheogorath's offer of his chair, another drink, a meal. Erdi stepped up behind him, cutting off his retreat.

"Some roast snout?" the Daedric Prince offered brightly. "Marinated in ginger and--"

"No," said Marcus. "Couldn't possibly. Um--"

"Please," said Sheogorath. "There must be something here I can do for you? Any of these things strike your fancy?" 

Marcus paused. "It's too much," he demurred. Erdi kicked him in the ankle, from behind where the daedric prince couldn't see it.

"Ask," commanded Sheogorath. "It shall be yours."

"Marcus!" hissed Erdi. "Be polite! Say yes to something." For goodness' sake-- if one of the high ones wants to give you something, you take it and you say thank you! She nudged him with her foot again.

"What about... umm? Some garlic?" Sheogorath's gaze was ranging up and down the table, searching for something appropriate.

"I want that sword," said Marcus, suddenly.

"Really? This old thing?" Sheogorath frowned at the... letter-opener, or novelty butter-knife, or whatever-it-was. He didn't appear to think much of it. "Might need it in a moment," said the mad god dubiously, as if he doubted its utility. "But I can wrap it up for you after that. You can take it home with you. That suit you?"

"Um. In return for what?" asked Marcus.

The Daedric prince looked momentarily confused. "For being my guest." Then he qualified his statement: "For not runnin' hither and yon, screaming about how you want to escape; how you need to get out-- so tiresome! Really all I ask is for you to cooperate with my little proposal and then you can go home."

"Sure," said Marcus easily. "I'll take that deal. So what do we actually have to do to get out of here?"

"Wabbajack!!" Sheogorath screamed, bounding upwards suddenly and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Wabbajack, Wabbajack, Wabbajack!"

Erdi's hands were suddenly full of a terrifying-looking staff with a screaming face on the end. She yelped and accidentally triggered it. A burst of red light spat out of it, to dissipate harmlessly in the grass.

"Hey-- that's pretty neat," said Marcus. "Could I get one of those too?"

"Mm." Lord Sheogorath hesitated. "I can borrow one from Solstheim," he said brightly. "Here!"

Marcus' staff sprayed black droplets of void space and horrible green tentacles. Erdi bit off a sharp scream, but Marcus was immensely pleased by it. "Think I've figured it out," he said. "Now what?"

"Um," said Erdi. They were no longer standing at the table. They were in front of a large dolmen gate. "We walk down here and take care of things. This way first, I guess."

"So what else is new," Erdi muttered.

That's what court had been like. When she was young and fresh and new, she hadn't seen it right away, everybody just waiting to stab each other in the back, first chance they got.

"Yeah?" muttered Marcus. "Bet mine was worse."

"Worse than mine?" Erdi questioned. 

"Mm, you don't want to put money on that," he cautioned. "''Course, she wasn't half as bad as--" He broke off and turned around in place, looking.

"You sure we're going the right way?" he demanded.

"He's still talking, isn't he?" said Erdi. 

"I hate this creepy voice stuff," said Marcus. "You can knock it off anytime," he called.

"It's what I do!" the too-jovial voice came back. 

"Get out of my head," Marcus muttered.

They went on.

"How is this in any respect a life lesson?," Marcus complained.

"Daedric princes must lead a pretty sheltered lives," said Erdi. "For this to be anything to comment about, I guess."

Marcus snorted. "Yeah," he said.

As they came up the rise, Marcus made a noise of disgust.

"Hm?" said Erdi.

"It's an arena," he said with contempt. "You don't see them in Skyrim. Not anymore. Filthy places." He described some of the goings-on and Erdi shuddered. She didn't like even the thought of blood sport-- and this was like bear-baiting, except with people! What's wrong with Imperials, she thought.

"Pretty sure the elves came up with the idea," Marcus said, darkly.

"Men aren't much better," said Erdi. 

Marcus grumbled something that might or might not have been agreement. 

"Let's go on top and see what we're dealing with," he suggested.

Erdi frowned. "I hope we're not going to get trapped inside and have to fight our way out," she said.

"I dunno," said Marcus. "Might be fun. Come on up." 

But nothing happened. 

In this arena, it was two storm atronachs battling it out, slamming each other into the walls and ground repeatedly. They looked well-matched. It was impossible to tell which one was winning.

"Look," said Erdi. "Do you think that's Mad Emperor Pelagius himself?"

"Must be," said Marcus. "Pretty fancy armor." He frowned. "Why didn't he execute his hairdresser? Because to hear them talk, he executed pretty much everyone else. Even his cat for barking at him. Honestly, though, you can tell he's a crazy person just from his hair--" 

Erdi stood on his foot. "Maybe he's listening," she hissed. "Don't piss him-- don't be your usual self. Be quiet."

"So-- ah-- are we supposed to spectate, or what?"

Erdi looked skyward, but it seemed like Sheogorath was done giving them directions.

They watched the atronachs tussle. 

"I think the one on the left is winning," said Marcus. "See? It has more--"

There was a particularly resounding crash, and Erdi winced. She settled herself down on the throne, there being no other seat. Would that be the trigger? Sitting on the throne? She'd heard of these kinds of traps...

Nothing happened, as she'd feared it might not. 

So that wasn't it.

"I don't know," she said, belatedly answering Marcus. "The one on the left has fewer, um, rocks now?" The atronachs, roiling and fighting, swapped positions. Now she couldn't tell.

Across the arena, Pelagius made an imperious gesture at her--do something! "Are we supposed to intervene?" she asked Marcus, cautiously.

"What, like in the backstabbery sense?" Marcus queried. "Sure, why not. See if you can hit one."

"Um. Make certain they can't come out here first." 

Marcus put his hands up, and leaned against the invisible wall which screened the arena off from them. "Hm," he said. "Let me see..." He performed a running jump, and promptly bounced back onto the dais.

"Hey! Watch the silks," Erdi cautioned. "We're going to have to pay for that."

A few more tests, and Marcus was satisfied: they could not get to the atronachs, but the atronachs could not get to them. "Shoot at an angle," he suggested. "So if it bounces off, the rebound doesn't hit you." He grinned. "I learned that with a crossbow. The hard way."

Erdi adjusted her approach.

"Did I hit anything?" she called, because nothing seemed to have changed.

"I think you're being too restrained," said Marcus. He moved a little closer so they could hear each other. "Hurry up, will you? This is getting boring."

Erdi triggered her staff several times in quick succession. "Am I missing them?" She thought she might have hit, but there had been no visible reaction.

"No, you hit one of them, for sure," said Marcus. "I saw it. Can't see that it did anything, though. Let me try."

Marcus triggered his staff off much, much too close to the two of them. Erdi scrambled back out of the way as the writhing tentacles lashed out just a few feet from them.

"Be careful with that thing!" she scolded. "Maybe don't shoot it off all at once."

Marcus just grinned.

Green tentacles shot out everywhere as Marcus triggered the staff again and again, and again.

He paid no attention to Erdi's cries.

Marcus turned suddenly, and used the tentacles to barricade one of the atronachs into a corner. Then he started anew, on the other.

"Focus fire!" he shouted. "These things're pretty tough, but it should work--"

Erdi had no idea what he was talking about, but she gathered that he wanted her to shoot the atronach he was currently aiming at, so she did.

Nothing happened.

So she shot the other one.

Nothing happened.

Marcus kept right on triggering his staff. By now there were tentacles everywhere, and the atronach he'd so afflicted was rooted in place, immobile, barely visible under all of the writhing black and green.

"Um," she said, interrupting Marcus. "The whole arena is filling up with that stuff-- is that supposed to happen?"

"Too bad," he sighed. "I was having fun."

The tentacles swelled and coalesced, and the void-space they carried spread outward from that place, engulfing the atronachs and spreading towards the walls of the arena. Erdi grabbed Marcus' shoulder and started to pull him back as the waves of nothingness approached them.

But the void-space hit whatever barrier it was that protected the arena, and stopped there. It pulsed, flickered, and then began to dissipate.

"That.. didn't seem to do anything at all," said Erdi, dejected. 

Below then, the atronachs continued their eternal battle, neither side prevailing. The Septim emperor waited, clearly disappointed in the two of them. He wasn't even making gestures anymore.

Marcus growled. 

"I hate puzzles," he said. "This isn't fun anymore."

"Put that thing down," Erdi told him. "Let's try to talk it out."

"Sheogorath told me that the way out was for me to clear up the... clear the mind of the mad emperor. He said once that's done, the emperor's mind will be at peace and he will... sleep or pass on or pass along, so this bit of the world will fade away. We'll be back in the Blue Palace."

"Bullshit," said Marcus.

"What!?"

"The Daedric Prince of Madness just told you that the way to go home was to cure a dead person's insanity? Why would you even believe that was true? Don't you know anything about daedric princes? Think they give up souls--" he snapped his fingers--"Just like that?" He scowled at her.

"He didn't lie to me before," said Erdi, defensively. "Everything he told me came true just like he said, right down to the day I came back here and the part where I'm an adventurer and not a maid and..."

Marcus had gone dangerously silent. But Erdi could see that he had learned a few things in his own travels-- there was no instant explosion. "So you knew about this all along," he said, quietly.

He looked about at the barren, windscarred landscape. As far as the eye could see; dead trees; stony outcroppings; a desolate sky. 

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Marcus said, shaking his head. "You are so gullible-- didn't even think that elf was lying to you, for pity's sake. So damned easily led-- ahh!" He drew breath and Erdi winced. Here it came: "And SO WAS I, for thinking it would be EVER be a good idea to help you out. THIS is what you surprise me with? Walking into a Daedric realm? Getting ourselves trapped here? What were you even thinking-- that I would go along with this?"

"We... we made a deal," stammered Erdi.

"Yeah, and my part of the deal was that you would help me get my salvage over here and put up in a warehouse nice and safe, which is what happened. I told you what to expect, where to go, and what to do. Didn't suddenly decide to take you on a little jaunt over to Molag Bal's realm." 

He gestured around them. "I said I'd help you find Thaena! Ask questions. Help you get into the abandoned wing of the Blue Palace. Not volunteer to get stuck someplace gods know where and gods know when!"

Marcus exhaled: "I've been told: the way you deal with Daedra is you stay away from them, Erdi! Terrifying things happen around them. Like this one..." his voice trailed off and he was staring into the far distance, his face haunted. "Hundreds of thousands dead. An entire country laid to waste-- forever; fire coming up from the ground and raining down from the sky. Ash drifting and poisoning the fields as far as Eastmarch and Solstheim, even to this very day-- it's been almost two hundred years! Because that thing that you've been flirting with got bored." He raised his hands skyward. " But I'm sure it's all good-- that horrible vengeful malignant thing's been nice to you!" He bared his teeth. "Been gentlemanly." 

"How do you know all this?" Erdi demanded. Her hands were fluttering and she tucked them in her belt. She was getting very upset. Almost sick.

Marcus looked even more disturbed. 

"I-- I'm not... I don't know," he confessed. "Probably from Master Giraud. Sometimes he gives history lectures out in the amphitheater and he lets the public sit in. Or maybe Auryen, he told me a lot about Daedra and their artifacts when he was showing me how all of the security in the Daedric exhibit hall works."

He rubbed at his face to loosen the strands of wig which had stuck to his forehead, and spread his arms to indicate the bleak wasteland they stood in: "Danger could come at any time, anywhere," Marcus quoted. "Delivered by anyone." He looked at her and snorted. "Haha. Thanks."

"I do not backstab my friends," declared Erdi.

"Oh?" he challenged. "So tell me all about what you did to Jala. Because she wouldn't tell me." He crossed his arms. "She cried too. Scary. Even scarier than that thing back there sitting at the table. Almost."

Erdi said: "That isn't fair! You know what happen--"

"I heard a rumor once that Torygg wasn't very happy," said Marcus. "About a certain something else that might've happened? Think that was the first time you had to sell your clothes." He smiled, nastily. "From king's woman to what? Lady's maid? Bit of a comedown, wasn't it."

"Shut up," said Erdi, hotly furious. 

"And where you're concerned my uncle is a saint, because you've done it to him, what. Twice? He trusted you, and look what happened. Both times." Marcus overrode her: "I saw his face, coming out of that tent. I don't think you could have driven a knife in further if you had tried. This IS what you do to your friends, Erdi. ALL of them. Why do you think you don't have any? Why do you think the staff at the Blue Palace was happy to see you fall?"

He raised his voice: "You've even made me feel bad for a Thalmor Justiciar--one of them! They kidnap and torture and kill us!--just because...aaaah... I saw what his face looked like, too." He shook his head with disgust. "Real slick, doing it like that. And you know how Altmer are, he can't just walk away. For them it's forever. Always."

Erdi said: "I'm sorr--"

"Fuck you! You're never sorry. People who're sorry don't keep doing this shit!" 

Marcus' eyes were locked to hers, agonized. She could see his chest rising and falling. 

"You know I'm never getting out of here, right? That thing back there, you see how happy it was? It'll have me forever." He shuddered. "I can hear it in my head." 

He looked completely revulsed. "It said it was sorry that I didn't like its little presents. Gods. Oh gods. Stendarr save me."

"We will get through this," said Erdi, firmly. "I will get you out of here."

"Yeah," said Marcus bleakly. "Tell that to my adoring fan back there." 

He sank down into the throne, lolling against the side of it as if he were some effete jarl, and waved a languid hand. 

"Go ahead," he directed, tiredly. "Solve the puzzle for us. Oh! Try to be amusing, why don't you. Our lives depend upon it."

Erdi turned back to the arena so she wouldn't have to face Marcus anymore. She felt very low and tired.

There was nothing for it. 

The Sisters would be upset if they could see her, she knew. Raising her slumped shoulders, she forced her muscles to relax, straightening her posture. Lifting her chin.

What Marcus had said-- no. She did not have time to think about it. Not if they wanted to survive this place. She tried to view the scene before her-- the bored Emperor, the standing guards, the endlessly warring atronachs-- with fresh eyes. 

"From anyone," Erdi mused. 

"Well, here goes nothing," she said, lifting the Wabbajack and shooting Emperor Pelagius squarely in the chest. Pelagius didn't react. He just stared through her, mournfully.

"Hey! That wasn't a good idea--"

"Be quiet," she snapped, and Marcus fell silent. 

"How is it that you know everything there is about what we're supposed to do? Have you figured it out yet? Hm?"

Marcus didn't say anything.

After a few minutes of Pelagius doing no more than staring through her mournfully, Erdi gave vent to profanity and began to fire the staff off at everything she could in the arena-- the doors, the throne, the stone walls; Pelagius again; the atronachs...the guardsmen, the atronachs...

"Now I feel really stupid," she said, as the transmuted guardsmen immediately turned and ripped the now-ghostly Emperor Pelagius to shreds. "It's always the housecarls. Every play you go to, it's the housecarl who did it."

Marcus offered her slow, sarcastic applause, which echoed through the stonework. Except-- it wasn't him. Marcus wasn't sitting behind her anymore on the throne. Somebody else was.

"Oh!" crowed Sheogorath. "Bravo! I thought you'd never figure it out. With the threat gone, Pelagius is under the delusion that he is safe, which means you've helped him out...sort of. And we're that much closer to home." He smiled brightly. "Which means of course it's getting closer-- closer to last call. Time to open another bottle!" 

And the Daedric Prince vanished.

Erdi wasted quite awhile looking before she finally settled down by a mushroom-ring and waited in a place where she would be visible from every direction.

Eventually Marcus jumped down from one of the stone outcroppings.

"Sorry," he said. "That thing just.. it just materialized right on top of me." He shivered. "Creepy. So I took off. What are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know," sighed Erdi. "But I'm thirsty. So let's go back to the table and see what's next."

Lord Sheogorath insisted that she tell the story, of course-- the description of how she'd gotten frustrated and just shot at everything made the Daedric Prince laugh and laugh. General Istvir glowered at Erdi. He seemed about to say something.

Yorvik casually rose from his chair and took a few steps, as though to stretch his back. He came to stand between General Istvir and Kolb, as if he were about to lean down and share a few congenial words. He still had his spiked gauntlets on, Erdi noted.

"Go to the second clearing," Sheogorath told her. "There's your first dead one-- I chose him specially for... Well. That's a lie. SHE insisted on that one. So. I gave him to her. A little present. Hope you didn't want that one!"

"No," said Erdi quickly. "I choose Thaena. I want her to live. Let her leave with me."

 Sheogorath agreed, pleasantly. 

Thaena's head lifted, but only briefly. She went back to staring at the table, dully. She had lost all hope.

Erdi and Marcus had talked on the way back, just a little. Neither of them wanted to leave an evidently-pregnant lady behind, who was still desperate to get back to her daughter. So Erdi made certain to secure Thaena's safety, first. Maybe Sheogorath would even send her out of his realm right away, just as he had tossed Erdi out. Erdi hoped Thaena wouldn't get hurt.

The two recalcitrants said nothing: Kolb remained rooted in his chair, the spiked gauntlet digging into his neck. General Istvir started to say something, and Yorvik lifted his other hand, threatening Istvir's good eye. Istvir subsided.

And Marcus and Erdi went, as the mad god directed them, to the second dolmen gate.

Erdi came around the next bend in the path, and gasped. There was a little clearing here, with some grass and fallen leaves. And what she'd nearly stepped on was a Haafingar guardsman-- she'd seen him before, but couldn't place a name to him. Dead, and pinned to the ground by a monstrous executioner's axe.

"Oh that's bad," said Marcus. "There should be blood everywhere, it sliced right through him. But it's all dry, like he never had any. Weird." He looked over the corpse. "Maybe a vampire or something else that drinks blood? But I don't think they lap up puddles..." They looked at the ground, but there was no trace that it had even been damp. The leaves the body was lying upon were crisp, unmarked.

"The executioner didn't do a very good job," said Erdi, critically. The blade was half in the man's neck; half in his shoulder. Still, it would have sufficed.

"Yeah, my uncle says it's all in the backswing," Marcus told her. "And getting all of your weight up behind it." He laughed. "He always tried to do a clean job of it. Except for that time he had to deal with that noble from the Rift; the man's family paid him good money to ah, make a big scene of it. And he did." 

Erdi remembered that day; it had been pretty exciting. There had been a number of complaints; the onlookers had been drenched to the second row. 

She knelt to take a closer look at the corpse.

"Is that the missing guard-captain?" Marcus asked. 

It seemed likely. She didn't recall quite what Acting-Captain Jorluf had looked like. But the dead man matched the description she'd seen on the placard. "I think it is." 

Marcus didn't know.

The man's expression was oddly peaceful.

Marcus had gone further ahead, exploring the other end of the clearing. He started to call out again; saw Erdi and waved at her-- one moment. He kept walking, slowly, looking out into the brush as if he were looking for something in particular. 

Using his mage-sense?

She ran ahead to catch up.


	5. Bravo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:
> 
> Blood, another dead person.
> 
> This is Sheogorath; don't be surprised.
> 
> At least this guy deserves it.

"Hey," said Erdi. "It's going to be all right. We're taking care of this mess for you."

The mad Emperor blinked at her, slowly and groggily. He was very young. Younger than Erdi, certainly; maybe even younger than Marcus. "What is this place?" he asked, alarmed. "Who are you?"

"My name is Erdi," she told him. "And you're in a... a nightmare of sorts. We're here to make it all better." She smiled. "We're really all just in your mind."

"Oh." The mad emperor concealed a yawn, then smiled. "I s'pose we can be on an intimate basis then? My name is Thoriz."

Names, realized Erdi-- Thoriz was referring only to the matter of names, which was evident as he lifted a hand and touched her cheek, cautious not to give offense. His speech was immediately comprehensible to her and clear even if overly formal-- but oddly casual in places, just like--

The messy bits of his hair reminded Erdi very much of Cyrelian. She had to shut her eyes. Thinking of the elf, and what Marcus had said--Erdi compressed her lips, angry with herself, willing herself to stop it.

A hand traced along her jaw.

"Sorry," Erdi said. "I'm pretty sweaty." There, that would explain away any wetness on her face. She was not upset about what Marcus had been saying, because it was not true.

She took a breath, trying not to look angry or upset.

"You're real," said Thoriz Pelagius Septim the Third, Emperor of all Tamriel. He slumped back against the bed. "Nothing else here has been real. It has all been so terrible," he sighed. "And it feels like it's been just about forever." 

With curiosity: "How does the Empire, these days? Have we conquered Akavir yet?"

Marcus tsk'd a warning, but Erdi had this: "It flourishes still, my lord emperor. And your esteemed great-uncle's name still resounds in every corner of this world." Well, that was cutting a considerable number of generations and corners, but he would get the point. 

The young man yawned again. "I'm Thoriz," he said. "Considerin' the context an' all. Since you're in my mind an' all." Another yawn. " "M sorry," he mumbled. "I really can't stay..."

He clambered back up onto the bed, turned onto his side, and went immediately back to sleep. Erdi got back up and went to join Marcus, who was wandering around near another dolmen gate.

"Think that horrible creature missed its cue," said Marcus, with satisfaction. "Cause this has got to be one of the other two puzzles."

"Come on," said Erdi. "Let's go back and walk through the gate from the correct side this time--" They didn't want to anger the Daedric prince, after all. They had to play Sheogorath's little games.

Sure enough, after a few more steps, she heard Sheogorath's voice resounding in her head. Marcus rubbed at his head and groaned.

"Why," he said. "Does it need to talk SO LOUD? Gods! I'm not even hung over." He clutched his head and howled right back: "AAAAAAHHHH!" 

Erdi shushed him.

"Great," said Marcus, unenthused. "I wonder what it's going to be this time."

"Well, we know that the Wabbajack can wake Pelagius up," said Erdi, as they walked back to the bed in the middle of the round clearing. She just couldn't call him Thoriz. "But I couldn't keep him awake for anything, he kept drifting back off." 

"I can't believe you just shot him," Marcus groused.

"Well?! Poking him didn't work. And I DID try talking to him first, and shaking him, so there!"

Erdi gasped. 

"Marcus! Look out!!"

Marcus spun around and slashed at the wolf which had just darted out of the woods to snap at his hose.

But the wolf was not really after Marcus at all; as he backed up, considering it, It turned away from him and...

"Do something!" yelled Erdi, running back to where she'd left the Wabbajack. "It's trying to bite him!"

Marcus slashed at the beast again, and blood spattered out over the tiles.

"Hurry up!" he called. "And get me my staff!" 

The wolf went in, attempting to tear out Pelagius' throat. Marcus hit it again, just in time. Pelagius whimpered, and rolled around on the bed, evidently still asleep.

Erdi struggled with the Wabbajack. She missed, hitting Pelagius square in the face. He jerked awake and, groggily, began to get up.

As Marcus called to her again, she tossed his staff at him and he caught it, one handed, dagger still somehow clutched in his hand.

Tentacles spewed out everywhere, impeding the wolf. Pelagius wandered around sleepily, as if looking for something. A glass of water? Another pillow? He muttered something incomprehensible-- and then crawled back onto the bed.

Erdi struggled to trigger the Wabbajack; it seemed to have a will of its own. 

Finally-- the burst of ruby light hit the immobilized wolf straight on, and it blinked out of existence only to reform as...

"Oh!" she said, with surprise. "A goat." She frowned. "I guess we need to transform these things too?"

And: "Marcus?" she questioned. "Where did you get those blades from? We didn't bring any weapons in here." She scowled at him. "We couldn't. The Pelagius Wing doesn't allow weapons inside. That's how you end up getting killed."

Marcus looked at his hands in confusion. "These?" he said, surprised. "These are my blades, I've always had these."

Erdi stood looking at him. "That... doesn't sound right," she hazarded. "Those don't even look like real daggers. Are those-- table knives? They look weird. None of this seems right."

He shrugged. "Seems right to me," he said.

In the meantime Pelagius had yawned and curled back up, head to his pillow.

"Let me see those," said Erdi, coming over to Marcus. They weren't like any daggers she'd ever seen before. For one thing the blades were odd, almost triangular. Marcus couldn't remember where he'd bought them, or been given them, or found them, or stolen them...

He seemed just as confused.

An uluating Nord battlecry rang out-- and both of their heads turned.

A warrior dressed in roughly-improvised armor and ragged furs ran up towards the bed, mace in hand but--

 "Huh," said Erdi. "Look at that."

"That goat's doing all of our work for us," agreed Marcus. "Try hitting that bandit lady with the Wabbajack."

Erdi did, and there was another burst of red smoke, and a boy appeared where the lady bandit had been. He laughed and began to run about and play with the goat.

"What on Nirn is this even about?" asked Marcus, puzzled. 

"No idea," said Erdi. She was just as baffled. "I mean, the Temple of Dibella had some classes on dream interpretation, but it was mostly reserved for those who were going to be chosen to be the Sibyl's attendants, and--" She sighed. "And it was so boring. Never anything useful. Um. I think goats are supposed to represent agents of change..." 

Marcus didn't seem particularly interested, so she stopped.

Nothing happened for a bit. 

The boy ran and played with the goat, paying the two of them no heed. 

After a couple of moments Marcus made a gesture. Erdi began to patrol the tree-line in one direction and Marcus took the other, headed toward the empty path. He ran quickly, lightly, to look down it, to make sure nothing was coming.

"All clear," called Erdi. "I don't think anything else--"

The boy screamed shrilly and ran, trailing the remnants of a Destruction spell.

"Sweet paps," Erdi muttered and-- "Hagraven!" she called to Marcus, and struggled to fire the Wabbajack in its direction. 

The evil beast cackled and ducked away, eluding its burst.

It came running at Erdi, filthy talons at the ready.

Bravely, the boy ran back in and waved his arms, and the creature turned to slash at him instead. He taunted it and ran off. Behind him, the goat took the opportunity to go on the offensive.

Erdi tried to aim again. She missed, striking Pelagius in the side. He mumbled and turned over.

Marcus came running up. The hagraven disappeared behind a wall of waving, ugly green tentacles.

"What are you waiting for?" he cried. "Hit it! Turn it into something else!"

After several misses, Erdi finally had success, and the red clouds burst forth once more and cleared, to reveal a tavern maid.

"Ha," said Marcus. "I bet I can guess what your buddy over there's really afraid of." He opened and closed his hands in front of his chest, miming breasts.

"Shut it," said Erdi. "I don't think we're finished."

She yelped as a flame atronach materialized in front of her. Thankfully she nailed it squarely on her second attempt, before it could do more than lob a single fireball in Marcus' direction. It missed. As the Wabbajack's red burst struck it, the atronach rooted itself in the ground, flared up, and revealed itself to be a bonfire.

"Think that's it?" he called.

"No," said Erdi. "I still have a bad feeling about all this--"

"GODS!" screamed Marcus "What is THAT?" 

He turned and immediately used his staff, spraying the monstrous thing with the immobilizing tentacles, before Erdi could even see it. She got only glimpse of rotting silk robes and bones and a deadly great evil. Whatever it was, it threshed in the tentacles' grip, and Erdi hit it on her first attempt, easily dispatching it.

"Okay," said Marcus. "That is just plain stupid. Whoever came up with this stuff-- they aren't just crazy. They must be mentally defective."

"What's that?" asked Erdi.

Marcus sighed, exasperated. "It's a burial chest," he explained. "When we uncover one of the more important draugr lords, sometimes they have a chest of personal belongings. This is what they look like. So-- I'm pretty sure that was some kind of revenant. It turned into its own treasure chest."

"Is this it?" Erdi looked about, nervously.

"Generally if we get to one of those big chests, that IS it," said Marcus. "You only get these in the most important burial chambers. When you see one, you're pretty sure that's it. You're all done."

Ah. "Do you get anything good out of them?"

Marcus shrugged. "Sometimes."

 The two of them waited for quite a while, but nothing more happened. Marcus asked her if she had any more bad feelings, but she didn't. What she had was a bored feeling.

"Can you pick the lock?" asked Erdi.

"Do you really want me to go and mess about with that thing?" asked Marcus. "Cause maybe it'll stay a chest... maybe it won't." He walked over and poked at it nonetheless, rapping against it with his staff.

"Won't open," he reported. "Doesn't really have a lid- looks like it's a fake. One solid piece."

Erdi shot Pelagius a few times with the Wabbajack to no avail.

"Guess we have to wait for him to wake up?" she hazarded. And then-- "I'm going to put my feet up, since he isn't using that side."

"Pretty sure that's lèse-majesté," Marcus advised her.

"No it isn't," she rejoined, smugly. "Not for me. Specialized training." And several years of experience.

Marcus snorted: "Going behind that tree over there. Try not to get us into anything else we can't get back out of." And, as he got too far away for her to answer back: "Like that guy's pants."

A moment later, before Marcus came back, Pelagius muttered something. Erdi touched his shoulder and he lifted his head to look at her, and then pushed himself upright, sliding off the edge of the bed and leaning against it.

"It's over," she advised him. "The nightmares are gone."

"Thank Talos," Thoriz Pelagius sighed. "So horrid."

"What did you see in your dreams?" asked Erdi, curious.

"No," he said, with finality. "It was dreadful. Let it stay in the realm of dreams, lest my words--"

"Did it have to do with hagravens and flame atronachs and goats?" asked Erdi. "Because--"

"I need to stand up," said the erstwhile emperor, and he did.

He walked about a few steps and surveyed the clearing; the dead trees and the swirling clouds of the alien sky. "Is this Vaermina's country?" he asked, curiously.

"Lord Sheogorath is your host," Erdi advised.

He smiled, a bit sadly. "Of course," he said. "My only friend." And: "That's really not fair. My wife is a good lady. But I must be here. I could not leave this disaster hanging over poor Jolethe."

"Sheogorath said that you have this obsession with entrails and executions and headsmen and your digestion--" began Erdi. The mad emperor stared at her, puzzled. "Is that what you dreamt about?" she finished, lamely.

"Not I," said Thoriz Pelagius. He looked about, nervous. Fearful. "It must be the other one," he said, with deep concern. "She must be bleeding through--"

Erdi expressed her confusion.

"Her persona into my seeming," explained Thoriz Pelagius, patiently, just as if she would know what he was talking about. "Her personality expressing itself through-- Look. This is as bad as bad gets. Please, you must do something. Haafingar cannot hold against her return. Skyrim itself will fall. The dead and the demons shall rise, the skeletal creatures scratching through the earth; vampire lords stride arrogantly through the streets. Oh, the darkest days are coming. The blood shall run--" His eyes were wild. Once again he was Pelagius the Mad.

"Please," said Erdi. "What are you talking about?"

But Thoriz Pelagius' form was growing insubstantial, as he shook his head sadly. "I tried," he said. "For so long, I have tried. But it is not enough. I am failing. I fail. O may my ancestor have mercy."

And he was gone.

The boy was gone, and the bonfire, and the treasure chest, and the lady. The goat continued to crop at the bushes, ignoring her.

"I'll be glad when we're done with these outfits," groused Marcus, returning. "These points are nearly impossible to do up on my own."

"They're all gone--" she reported to him, a little breathless. "The bed, everything-- It just all vanished." Both of them looked around the empty clearing. Marcus ran in and around the tree line with his mage-sense, but saw nothing at all.

"I guess this is the end of that test?" Erdi said. "Pelagius was saying some odd things that I really didn't quite understand--"

Marcus didn't know, either. 

"Well, it is his sobriquet," said Erdi. "Pelagius the Mad. Maybe it was fairly earned. Let's go back and see what else we have to do."

Lord Sheogorath was pleased: "Welcome back, my friends! You know, I've been considering. Thinkin'. Why should I wait around for someone else's story when I can write my own? Hm? Or... do you think I'd be better off writing a play?" His fingers tapped. "I've already written three acts!" He squinted at Erdi, seeking approval. "Are you enjoying them?"

"Yes!" agreed Erdi at once, with enthusiasm. "It's all been great fun." She hoped she said it loudly enough to cover the dejected little noise Marcus had made.

 "A comedy? A tragedy? Tragilcomedy? Cometragilidy? I don't know what to call it. Enough of this," said the mad god magnanimously. "You're hungry. Eat, drink. Have some cheese. Listen to what Yorvie over there's talking about. What was that about the hagraven again?"

"Well," said Thane Yorvik. "Can't say as that's worth the repeating, but anyways. We was up in the Druadachs sometime cleaning up, you know, fall of Markarth... dealing with these Namiira cultists who--"

Erdi walked away a little ways to eat after listening a bit; it wasn't a story conducive to appetite. She wolfed the cheese down in large bites, wishing there were more.

And suddenly... there was. Another fresh wedge of cheese, glistening with freshness, there in her hand.

Thoughtful, Erdi wandered back to the table just as Yorvik was wrapping up: "And there we were, lookin' into that cavern of horrors, and that young prince of ours-- you know, one I told you about, shoulda been next High King of Skyrim, woulda spared us all this trouble-- lying in one of those cages half filleted and eaten, blue eyes lookin' at me over the hole where his cheek had been... he was still alive, you see. Swarming with maggots and not long for Nirn I can tell you, but he knew me. Couldn't speak, but you could see him mouth the words "Keep him out."

Thane Yorvik sipped at his wine, delicately. "Any road, of course we couldn't; when that poor boy-- well, you know how it is, not a boy, man must've been nearly thirty but they're all boys to me now-- anyhow he showed up and just plowed right through the lot of us, ended up sitting on the floor in that cage for hours while we cleared and burned everything out." He paused. "Threw the kind of fit you'd appreciate, when we finally had to separate 'em. Took three of us to hold him back so that we could get what was our prince out of there."

Sheogorath was raptly listening: "So what did you do after that?"

"Well, not much worth tellin'," said Yorvik. "Mopping up took the better part of a year. 'Course we had plenty of volunteers to go out to the caves and do the killin', after all that. The Tribune was popular amongst the men for what that's worth, real good officer too... and the other one, he'd grown up in the Legion. Was a standard-bearer way back when he was still only a child, really. Big tall kid even back then. Adopted into the Decianus gens, had been named angusticlavius already... brilliant. What a damned waste. He mustered out after all that, of course." He sighed. "Don't much care for Namiira or her worshippers, but it's a waste of time and men trying to clean up the Reach."

Yorvik coughed. A steaming mug of tea-and-honey appeared in front of him. "Thanks," he said hoarsely, and drank it.

"She's not a very good guest," agreed Sheogorath, of Namiiira. "And an appalling host. You should SEE what her place looks like, my friend-- then again, no you don't." He gestured, and a plate of grilled chops and some stewed fruit appeared in front of himself. "So whatever happened to your General Whatisname?" he asked, words a bit muffled.

"Well," said Yorvik-- "That's kind of a long story. Sad one too. But first I gotta tell ya about--"

"For the love of Talos! Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Kolb was wholly out of patience and began screaming imprecations at Yorvik, the veins on his neck and forehead standing out. 

Erdi found herself backing away from the livid Nord. 

"You too!" Kolb snapped, rising from his chair to interrupt Sheogorath, when he tried to intervene. "I've had enough of your jabber. Shut--"

"Be silent," said the Daedric Prince, and the Nord's voice abruptly cut off. Erdi suppressed a gasp. Lord Sheogorath raised an eyebrow at Erdi. "He's just a walk-on," he said, apologetically. "So--" 

Erdi inclined her head, regally. But her heart was beating very fast.

Sheogorath dabbed his lips with a napkin. 

And then his cheek, where a little bit of the blood had spurted.

"--Sorry about the mess," said the mad god, in apology.

Yorvik had bolted up out of his seat and was standing nearby, understandably wary. Istvir and Thaena were halfway across the clearing, his hand gripping her arm. Erdi saw her shake him off and stalk away.

Marcus, who had also vaulted out of the way, just folded his arms and looked glum. Erdi could read his expression, easily: he'd expected no better.

"There--" said Sheogorath to Marcus. "I'm all done with it now. Take it, take it!--he indicated the outsize sword-- "What's mine is yours."

"That's your butter-knife?" questioned Erdi, faintly. 

Lord Sheogorath chuckled. "Butter-knife, claymore-- difference of degree really. Ha! Go on then. See if it's gotten caught in his spine."

Marcus came forward, leery, and examined Kolb's corpse. He made a disgusted noise at the amount of blood all over the seat, then caught himself. He grinned back up at Sheogorath; his professional, resistance-melting smile. "Maybe I can pick it up later?" he suggested. "So's not to make more of a mess?" He spread his hands. "Are you sure you want to give this to me? It's a lovely weapon. Are you sure it isn't too much?"

"Oh, no, no," said the Daedric Prince, quickly. "I gave it to you. It's yours. I won't be putting myself out. Belongs to some fellow named Jyggalag and I've got no use for him! Constantly whining on about do this and do that-- Anyway. Put it up with the rest of your toys. Heard you collect things now." He smiled at Marcus, pleased. "It's good to have hobbies. Isn't it?"

"Are you all right?" whispered Erdi to Thaena.

"Couldn't be better," announced Thaena, with great satisfaction. She alone was not fazed. Walking to the other side of the table, she pulled out the chair nearest the corpse, kicked its arm out of her way, and sat down. "Nice footrest," she said, placing her bootheels on Kolb's upturned face. She raised a tankard to Sheogorath. "My thanks."

He returned the gesture, gracefully.

Thaena caught Erdi staring. She gave Kolb's body another little kick. "What?" she demanded truculently. "I"m a true Nord."

But when Sheogorath enquired, did Thaena wish to have a cup made from the skull, Thaena declined.

Yorvik agreed with Thaena: "It's the modern world now. We're well past the Merethic. Not really in fashion with the guests and all. I'd take it as a souvenir, but my wife would put her foot down. "'Yorvik," she says. "You're bringing home too much junk. I'm not taking in any more things that Lanie has to dust--"

 Istvir was too wise to intervene or to say anything at all. In fact he stayed back away from their company, lurking near the treeline.

"Bravo in return," said Erdi, saluting Sheogorath with another little bow.

"Do you think that was too unsubtle?" demanded Sheogorath. 

He looked from Erdi to Marcus. "You, you're the expert, you love those epic thingies. So you tell me how you would have done it dIfferent? An ice spike to the eye? Dagger under the chin? A mouthful of cheese?" The Daedric Prince put both hands to his throat and mimed choking. 

"Ehh.." Marcus was striving to not commit himself to any particular answer. Erdi jerked her head. Answer him!

He was still struggling to come up with something when Erdi walked away to talk to Yorvik again, whilst General Istvir was still out of their hair.

"Skald wanted me to try to get you out as well," she reported. "He didn't say anything about him-- a toss of her head indicated Istvir-- and after what he did so far's I'm concerned he can rot here." Ahtar had told her, about how Istvir had repeatedly kicked Cyrelian as he lay helpless, possibly making his sickness worse. Spit on him too, for no reason other than to show off to his men how much he hated elves. To bait Ahtar, too, Erdi realized-- because an attack on himself would give him reason to hand Ahtar over to Acting-Captain Jorluf for execution. Ahtar had pretended indifference; and General Istvir had had to keep to his word and let them all go.

And, Istvir was the one who had brought Thaena here by force, on the theory that an unarmored woman might be able to open the Pelagius Wing to the Blue Palace without repercussions. That was Erdi's fault, and she named it for her own. Yorvik had been dragged along when he had protested Thaena's involvement.

 "Well now, young lady," said Yorvik. "Seems to me you might not be getting a choice." He frowned back at the table. "Daedra do what they do," he said, resigned. "No help for it. If he'd rather see my blood or yours, that's what it will be." He sighed. "Chaos such as what that one will wreak--"

 General Istvir, he meant, Erdi realized.

"--well. More in line with what this prince wants, wouldn't you say? Wholesale ruin and destruction. Make all of us crazy." Yorvik squared his shoulders. "Guess I'll do what I can to get through it."


	6. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More trigger warnings:
> 
> Character death; someone who deserves it for certain and someone who doesn't.
> 
> Blood, dead body, gore.

"That's two for our good friend in the wings!" enthused Sheogorath. "She'll be oh-so-happy." His brow furrowed as his smile turned thoughtful. "So-- Which one do you want to pick to go home?" he asked Erdi. "You get another."

"I'm not sure I want to make that choice just yet, sir," said Erdi, nervously keeping an eye on General Istvir.

Istvir was prowling about the clearing, weapons still at his belt. Istvir's head had jerked up at Sheogorath's words, so he'd been listening. Erdi could see how Istvir was staring at her. Could Istvir get to her? Maybe. Erdi wasn't sure, but she didn't like the way that Istvir was resting his hand on the haft of his axe. Axe? When had he gotten an axe?

Sheogorath shrugged negligently. "Ah, no mind. We'll get there. So tell me. Should we be having quince jelly or the snowberry spoon-fruit with the Skingrad vintage? I'd hate to overwhelm it, but that berry flavor..." 

"Sorry," said Erdi, not really attending. Istvir's agitation was making her apprehensive. Erdi kept moving to keep a significant space between herself and Istvir. As she tried to move further away, Istvir came forward to close that gap-- axe now in hand.

Sheogorath noticed. 

General Istvir was perforce seated. Istvir struggled; tried to get up; and failed. Sheogorath had trapped him in his seat. 

"Bitch!" Istvir snarled at Erdi. "When I get loose from here, you're going to--" Istvir began to claw frantically at his mouth. He spat orange chunks out onto the table, gasping and coughing and wheezing.

"Cheese," said Sheogorath, dreamily. And: "Better stop talking," the Daedric Prince advised. 

Istvir's skin darkened with rage; his lone good eye reflected back murder. He spat out a bit more saliva-and-cheese. His mouth continued to work as he muttered imprecations. Silently.

 "I could tell a few stories," Erdi offered, striving to keep her voice from trembling. She started to tell a funny one about Marcus-- who winced as the Daedric Prince laughed-- and then she caught Thaena's eye and made a gesture with her chin: Get out of the way.

Thaena caught her cue. "Going to the bushes," she said. "Won't be but a minute. Be right back." She rose and left the table.

Marcus frowned at Erdi. "Me too," he said, and took off in the other direction, making a great deal of noise rustling through the leaves.

 Thane Yorvik-- who was not slow on the uptake-- moved from Istvir's left to slide into Thaena's vacated spot. He propped his feet up on Kolb's skull. "There we are," Yorvik said, cheerfully. "Much better. Back's not what it was, you know." 

Istvir glowered at him.

Erdi went on with her story, waiting for General Istvir to relax his vigilance.

Should she try to trigger the Wabbajack's ability? What if it turned Istvir into something worse? What if it didn't do anything at all?

So Erdi chose a different approach--

\--The first strike of the Wabbajack pitched Istvir forward onto the table, scalp torn and bleeding.

Istvir was a man who'd survived much; this wasn't going to be anywhere near sufficient. 

Erdi saw Istvir press his hands against the table and begin to lever himself upright, prevailing against even this Daedric Prince's will--

\--So Erdi smashed the head of the Wabbajack down onto Istvir's head again and again and again, until Istvir stopped moving except for random twitches. 

"A little help?" she requested, still panting with exertion.

Sheogorath was laughing too hard to catch his breath. He tried to speak a couple of times and subsided. He had to pour himself a cup of water. 

"What fun!" he said. "Look at you, my little adventurer. So impatient to move the plot along!"

He mulled over General Istvir's blood-soaked hood and the splinters of bone and brain sticking out of it, his urine-and-feces-soaked kilt, grimaced, and waved a hand. 

"Not very aesthetic," Sheogorath complained. 

The bits of bone and gore vanished and the hood became pristine. The stench dissipated. Istvir's grey face remained still.

"I think we can agree," said Sheogorath. "Much better. Have any suggestions? A turret? A gibbet? One of those odd fence thingies?"

So Erdi told her story about what Istvir had wanted to do with Ahtar, finishing up with: "'Cause that's what heads on stakes are for," she said, imitating Istvir's bellicose tones. "Nothing personal.'" 

She had faith that Cyrelian had recounted it to her precisely.

"Clever," agreed Sheogorath. "And that gives me an idea." He allowed himself an evil little chuckle. "How about--"

General Istvir's impaled corpse suddenly became the centerpiece of an Imperial standard, one old enough to still have a Talos icon dangling from it as a sigil of the Septim dynasty.

"There," said Sheogorath. "What do you think?"

"How apropro," murmured Erdi, faintly.

"You know, that looks rather nice," said Lord Sheogorath. "What a pity I won't be able to take it home with me." He frowned at Erdi: "I'm terrible at gardening, you know." He indicated the barren ground around them. "Bit of a brown thumb. So I'm always on the lookout for--"

That prompted another anecdote from Yorvik, this time about marmots, and the havoc they wreak upon unsuspecting landscapers. Nonchalantly, Yorvik brushed a few errant bits of cheese off a nearby plate, and began to eat fish and potatoes.

"Just one little bit of trouble here, my dear." said the mad god, congenially. "Come here a moment. We should ... mm. Chat." 

He gestured, and the fish-plate went flying sideways. Thane Yorvik vaulted up out of the way as Erdi slammed down onto the table, belly first, hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs and make her see stars. She gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath.

Lord Sheogorath said nothing. 

He waited.

He never lost his faint smile.

Erdi heard a faint clinking as, behind her, the table setting re-asserted herself. Something warm was nudging against her knee, and she could smell warm pastry. And-- 

Strawberries?

Puzzled, but starting to recover, Erdi lifted herself up onto her elbows.

Sheogorath leaned forward to whisper down into her ear: "Remember where you are and what you are, mortal. This place is mine. The people in it mine. The things in it. Mine. Know your place."

A chill ran down her spine.

"I thought..." said Erdi, apprehensively. "I didn't mean to give offense. I thought... I thought it would amuse you." She let the tears well up, and sniffled a little.

"Ha haha! So you did." Sheogorath frowned: "But don't try this nonsense with one of the other princes, I can tell you. You know what happens if you try taking a choice away from Azura? Worst case of pinkeye ever. Nasty. Impinge on Meridia's authority? How much do you like being on fire?" He made a face. "Don't even get me started about Peryite. You'll just have to burn down that privy, let me tell you--"

Marcus hissed to signal that he still perceived great danger. Apologize! Immediately!! Keep apologizing! Grovel!

Erdi did her best, leveraging herself to her feet whilst keeping her head lowered, begging Sheogorath's pardon in as many ways as she could think of. 

When Erdi gauged that Lord Sheogorath was starting to drift, she raised her head.

"I won't step on any more toes," Erdi promised,in a sad little voice.

Sheogorath was not attending to her anymore.

 "I'm bored," the mad god said, suddenly. "Let's have a little entertainment."

Erdi fumbled the-- this was her own lute, wasn't it? Her fingers found the scuff in the soundboard, the odd peg that always needed replacing. Where had it come from? She blinked at the assembled company, puzzled.

"Know anything from Raven Rock?" her audience asked, pleasantly.

"Um, I can give you a couple of lays from Jehanna," Erdi said, still bewildered. "I'm a bit out of practice--"

"That'll do," Sheogorath said, smartly. "Let's hear it!"

Erdi's hands, without any directive from her, began to play a song, just as she'd played her flute in the Pelagius Wing just a few... where was her flute? Had she lost it along the way? Put it down somewhere? She really didn't know.

The Daedric Prince was nodding and humming along, looking much happier.

"Good! Enough unpleasantries," Sheogorath said, happily. "Let's have a word about the last trial, shall we? Act 3, if you will. I think you'll find it...mm. Well. Rather difficult. Relatively speaking."

Marcus and Erdi looked at each other. It hadn't been that bad thus far. Tedious and annoying, yes, but nothing too strenuous.

"You see," Lord Sheogorath said-- "We've had you take care of our poor Pelagius' hmm.. more externalized difficulties. After all, it isn't paranoia when you can prove they're all out to get you! Then it's what we could call an adjustment. Possibly not even a disorder. Just an acknowledgment of one's particular circumstances, wouldn't you say?" He smiled at the two of them. "So I'm sure Pelagius feels a lot better. No more guilt, no more howling-- just knowin' that it's time to hunker down and make some preparations. Do unto others before they do unto you." He beamed at Erdi. "Surely you understand."

Oh, yes, Erdi did.

 "And those nightmares," Sheogorath said. "Simply reflections in Pelagius' mind of true and honest fears. Just like the rest of you: you see one thing, and mistake it for another. Of course it's bad times when innocent things and people look like deadly foes. But-- all you need to do is wake up, and open your eyes! I see you figured that out. You put it right." The Daedric Prince frowned and rubbed his chin, looking at Marcus. "But tentacles-- that's cheating. No more of that. Can't abide cheating."

"What's so different about this test?" questioned Erdi.

"A proper hero needs proper obstacles," Lord Sheogorath admonished. "Otherwise what are you-- just some pretty little girl wandering about in the world having favors done for her? Now, it took me a little while. Some observation. But I think I've identified..." He nodded. "Yes," he said. "Oh yes. This will be good."

Marcus made a noise, and Sheogorath indicated him: "You too. So. Did you think it would be all tea and presents and cheesecake? I didn't think so. Ta. Off you go."

"Marcus?" Erdi called, doubtfully. They had been separated again, and she couldn't see him. Couldn't find him anywhere.

Once again she was wandering alone through the mists of this place. She walked and walked, trying to fight back panic. The trees began to push in close around her, and the mist thickened to blinding. 

"Maybe I'm just going the wrong direction," she muttered, and changed course. How long went by? Five miles? Ten? Erdi's legs were leaden with exhaustion. 

Finally she came to the last dolmen stone.

Erdi frowned as the words rang out in her head. Hadn't they covered some of this already? The Nord bandit; the wolf-- what was this?

What Sheogorath said next was even more confusing-- "That doesn't even make any sense," she complained. She watched the huge Imperial legionnaire, fists raised, circling a tiny figure.

"What now?" said Erdi. 

Marcus slipped out from behind a tree and ran soundlessly behind the two figures without drawing their attention, frantically gesturing.

He grabbed Erdi's arm and led her away, further down the path, trying to get his breath.

"You don't want--" he gasped. "Erdi, stay away from that man; trust me, he's a bad man. He's--" He caught his breath. "I know him," Marcus said. "I can handle him. This is--it's just how he treats-- Oh gods, he's so much worse with women. Let me deal with this. Please."

Erdi squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the two antagonists. 

"The soldier?" she hazarded, because the pathetic tiny creature in common dress couldn't possibly represent a threat to anybody. "I didn't think you knew any soldiers." At least, not outside of a professional context.

Marcus smiled at her, but his eyes were bleak: "In a manner of speaking," he said. "I-- I don't know how he's here. I watched-- I watched them--" He was shaking, all over, and his evident terror was contagious. Erdi fought it back and gripped his shoulder, patting him. "Oh, gods, Erdi, I don't know how he's here. I don't know what it will take--"

"If you don't calm down," she said, scowling, "I'll have to handle it anyways." 

Marcus nodded, and then darted away abruptly.

Erdi caught up with him; he was kneeling by an outcropping leaning his head against it, gasping. "Are you going to be sick?" she demanded. 

"Yeah," he said, and "No." The sweat was runneling down his face, mixing with the tears and splotching the dust beneath him. "I'm all right," he said. 

Erdi waited. Marcus was not all right; he was absolutely bloodless, but there was no sense arguing with him now. After a few minutes he pulled himself up to his feet. "Wipe your face and go back in there like a man," he told himself, and laughed immoderately. "For once."

IHe grinned at Erdi again, strained-- hideous. 

"I'll be fine," he promised.

In a blink his face smoothed. She could not discern his smile from his usual pleasant expression.

Another chill rolled down her spine.

He took note of Erdi and what she carried: "Come on," he said. "My bet is you have to shoot that thing of yours, just like the last two times. I don't want you coming in close until I've got this, though. Stay well back." 

Erdi glanced down, to find the Wabbajack in her hand. She was leaning on it. 

"I'm good," said Marcus. "I have a weapon." He patted the sheathed dagger, which had appeared at his side. "I'll engage and keep him distracted, and you do what needs done. All right?"

"Where's your offhand?" asked Erdi. And then, more sharply: "Where's your staff?" 

"Um?" Marcus looked about himself. "Around here someplace," he said, vaguely. "Thought I had it on me. Guess we'll have to deal with what we've got."

They hid behind a tree.

The tiny man in ordinary clothes was suffering a vicious beating. As he was struck, he grew smaller and weaker. A couple of times he lunged to get at at the outsize soldier-- and when he connected, the soldier himself would decrease in size. 

Around the two of them, ghostly figures wove, jeering, swinging weapons and egging the two of them on. The insubstantial weapons passed through the fighting figures-- usually. Sometimes they connected and drove the twin assailants apart.

Erdi saw the smaller man lash out desperately with his fists and strike the soldier; there was a quick burst of light and the size of each changed. They were more equal now.

In size, not ability. It wasn't a mutual fight in the slightest. The man in white tried to bolt towards escape.

The soldier lunged forward and kicked the other man, knocking his feet out from under him.

"Marcus!" gasped Erdi, as the soldier got hold of the man's hair in his fist, and drew him in for another strike with his wristguard, one that ought to split his head like an eggshell.

"Stay put!" Marcus shouted. He took off running towards the combatants.

"Caro!" she heard him scream.

The soldier jerked upright in shock, loosing his victim.

He stared at Marcus and said something so foul that Erdi's mind skittered to a stop. She couldn't parse it.

Marcus only laughed and made a joke of it. "Let him go," he urged. "Then we can have that conversation." One of the ethereal figures came to flank Marcus, weapon held protectively at the ready.

The soldier made a noise of derision. His fist hammered down. The man in white cried out in pain. Another burst of light, and their sizes changed again. This time the man in white was still in the soldier's grasp, no escape.

"Get off him," threatened Marcus, moving forward.

"Or what?" The soldier didn't even bother guarding himself. He was regarding the victim at his feet. He glanced back at Marcus and laughed, ugly. "Keep squeakin' ya little cunt."

"I'll cut you, I mean it," warned Marcus, his face angry and intent. He was moving, circling, looking for the opening. 

The man in white managed to get a hand loose and struck the soldier again, but was struck again in turn and howled in agony. Two flashes in quick succession. They were both smaller. The man in white had fallen to his knees.

Erdi saw that the other ethereal figure had also come to agree with Marcus, it had moved forward as well, great-axe held high.

The soldier-- much smaller now than any of these three--laughed: "Come on then, you worthless little piece of your mother's shit."

Marcus cat-screamed and lunged for him.

He had to abort his strike to avoid stabbing the man in white, who had stepped directly into the path of his attack. Marcus sidestepped, and darted in to try again.

The man in white reached up, grabbed Marcus' doublet, and yanked hard, tugging him off balance. The soldier darted forward, backhanded Marcus in the face, stripped the dagger away from him-- and slashed his throat with contemptuous ease.

The blood sprayed as far away as the treeline. Marcus' body collapsed, limp.

Erdi screamed.

The two half-size men turned to glare at her:

"Stay out of our business!" snapped the soldier.

"It's none of your concern," said the man in white. Wait, was that-- but he had already turned away.

Erdi could barely breathe. She stood, frozen.

The soldier walked up to Marcus' body and prodded it with a foot. He made a few more comments, filthy enough that Erdi found her mind wouldn't register them.

Maybe he's just knocked out, she pleaded with herself. That would be why the soldier was kicking at him. But when the soldier rolled him over to check for weapons, Erdi's hopes were dashed. Even unconscious, the living do not move like the dead.

And she could hear the blood, and smell it, dripping from the nearby trees and pattering down onto the grass.

"Hm," said the soldier, coming up triumphant with Marcus' tentacle staff. "Maybe you're not completely worthless after all." Something about his voice was disturbingly familiar. 

Erdi was still frozen.

When Erdi, in shock, lifted the Wabbajack and moved towards the soldier, he brandished the staff at her.

Green tentacles and void-clouds splattered everywhere. Erdi shrieked and jinked sideways to evade, barely escaping getting hemmed in against the rock outcropping.

The soldier sprayed down one of the ethereal figures, immobilizing it. He laughed and did the same to the other. Around them, wherever the ground had been touched by the void-clouds, it rippled in swirls of hallucinatory intensity.

At this point the soldier's attention returned back to the man in white, his victim:

"Don't I get any thanks at all?" demanded that worthy.

"This is your thanks," said the soldier, and triggered the staff. 

The man in white was lost in a cloud of roiling green.

The ethereal figures rematerialized and closed back in on the soldier, swinging.

This time they did better at avoiding the green spray. 

Erdi waited for her moment. As soon as she could she ran forward and shot the Wabbajack's ruby light onto the soldier again, and again and again, shrinking him each time. She desperately wanted to serve him as she had General Istvir, but she was unsure of what would happen if she tried. She remembered how quick he'd been to steal the dagger, and he still had it. Maybe if he got small enough she could stomp him like an insect. He ran at her and she shot him again. He was shrinking rapidly, now. 

The tentacles were fading from around the minuscule man in white.

Thinking quickly, Erdi shot the man in white several times in quick succession, taking care to stay out of his reach too. He grew to full height and then shimmered. Another flash of light, and his face was different now, his expression much more aware.

It was Thoriz Pelagius again, once more looking around, confused by his surroundings.

The soldier and the ethereal figures had vanished. 

So had Marcus' body.

Erdi ran back and forth, searching the field.

Marcus' body was gone, or-- Marcus was gone. She couldn't let herself think otherwise.

Lord Sheogorath's self-congratulatory tones rang out in her her head, announcing the end of the exercise.

"Done?! What do you mean done?"

Silence.

Where's Marcus?" she screamed. "What did you do to my friend?"

Nothing.

"Lady? Might I have a word with you?"

Erdi turned.

"I'm in a hurry," Erdi explained, her sides heaving with the exertion." "My friend, he--" 

Erdi wavered, and Thoriz Pelagius took her arm to steady her. Instead of falling, she sank down onto her knees.

"I saw it," said Thoriz Pelagius, gently. "I do not think that hurry will help." He smiled at her, sadly. 

Erdi stared at him, distraught. "Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do that to him? You killed him!"

"I did not," said Thoriz Pelagius. "That was not me-myself. It had nothing to do with me. That was part of him." He regarded her confusion: "Those two people, fighting. They came from here." He touched his head, meaning in the mind. "Inside him. I am not one of them," Thoriz Pelagius said.

"You're wearing the same clothes and face," complained Erdi. Wait a moment? Was he? She thought his face was different. Were his clothes different? They seemed different now. Darker.

Thoriz Pelagius was shaking his head. "What you can see of me is only a seeming. It is no more a person than a robe is a person, when it is worn by a man. A moment ago, this seeming was worn by another. I was present here, yes-- but not embodied."

"Who, then?" she demanded. "Who killed him?"

"It was some war within himself," explained Thoriz Pelagius. "I have fought the same, many times. What persons wear those seemings; well, that depends. Who was that soldier? Who was that young man in white? The soldier represents some past terror, I suppose. The man in white-- that's supposed to be one's better self. Or-- perhaps it is the other way around?" He shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand."

Erdi did not know. There was actually very little that she knew about Marcus. He did not speak much about himself.

"If it was all himself, why did it prove fatal?" she demanded.

"Did you think you two were the first to come here?" asked Thoriz Pelagius. "The first trial is of no moment, though some have given up, lain down, and died. The second--" he shrugged. "Difficult but doable. You got lucky with that dragon priest." He fingered the sleeve of his shirt. "But this is the first time I have seen anyone prevail in here. I do not know why the twin assailants did not spawn for you."

"The what?" 

"Your mind should have produced your own warring twins," said Thoriz Pelagius. "Your own battle. And the moment your friend died, his should have vanished. Instead, you took over the job of transforming them. Odd." His lips twitched; he nearly smiled. "Perhaps you have no internal conflicts. What luxury it must be, to simply act."

"This place," Erdi said, shakily. "It's like a dream world, isn't it? I'm alone in a dream. And I'm going to wake up, and we'll be in the Blue Palace, and all will be as it was..."

Thoriz Pelagius faded to translucency and was gone.

There was nothing else left in the clearing.

She was alone.

It was an even longer walk back to the banquet table. Erdi got lost several times. She stumbled and fell more than once. She was cold, and thirsty, and her heels had worn through the silk socks and had bled and blistered.

It took years.

Eventually she found her way back.

"What was that?!" she demanded, furious.

"I've solved your trials for you-- I fixed Pelagius' mind--I've done as you asked." She took a deep breath: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FRIEND?"

Sheogorath laughed. "Might want to ask yourself that question, my fine young adventurer. What did YOU do to YOUR friend?" 

Erdi swore at him.

"So? Don't intrude on matters within my discretion." Sheogorath sniffed. "I warned you that there would be consequences." 

He let his mouth gape open in a parody of Erdi's shock, and laughed again, heartily. 

"And while your new banner is certainly eye-catching, I'm afraid all that counts for nothing. Who was to choose the dead? Not you." Lord Sheogorath settled back in his chair, triumphant: "Me. And I have chosen."

"Liar!" Erdi screamed.

"Oh? Said I'd give you three." He pointed at Thaena: "One." 

At Yorvik: "Two"

And finally, back again at Erdi: "Three."

Erdi found herself, mid-tirade, seated at the table with a sandwich in her hand.

"Shh," warned Sheogorath. "You don't want to give me a headache, now do you?"

She threw the food down and slammed her fists against the table.

"You cheat and you lie!" she howled. And she pointed at Yorvik. "I never chose him!"

Thane Yorvik looked nonplussed.

"Keep complaining," the Prince of Madness said, well pleased. "I'll keep you here and roast you alive. I have at least one friend who'd love to find out exactly what you'd taste like napped with Eidar sauce." He looked at the table. "And oh look! We have toast points. And quince jelly."

He sighed with contentment: "And plenty of cheese."


	7. Adverse Construction

"Be careful, my dear," said Sheogorath, and yawned. "This has ceased to be amusing. Be happy I let you have your life."

Erdi was left sobbing helplessly.

Thane Yorvik stood up. "Well then," he said. "Not to be difficult, but I believe the young lady has a point."

"Oh?"

"Well, it's neither here nor there to me," Yorvik began in his mild tone, and Sheogorath followed right along, nodding..."but you've not been keeping of your promises." 

Sheogorath abruptly stopped nodding.

Yorvik paused to regard him with a steely eye.

"Hear tell that might be a problem for a daedric prince," Yorvik said. "Supposed to be men of their word, so to speak."

"It is not a problem!" Sheogorath barked. "I am the Prince of Madness. Ergo, volatile. Ahhh." A cup of tea materialized in his hand. He waggled his eyebrows, meaningfully, and sipped at it. "Lemongrass."

He looked at Yorvik: "I do what I want when I want, in my realm."

"In your realm? That where we are?" asked Yorvik, musingly. "Shivering Isles?" He made a show of looking around at the empty landscape. "Thought you said different, earlier," said Yorvik.

There was silence.

"Seems to me," said Thane Yorvik. "That all of your kind have some limits as to what they can and cannot wreak, here on Mundus. That so?"

Lord Sheogorath grudgingly agreed that this was so.

"Didn't you tell this young lady we were inside somebody's mind?" Yorvik questioned. "Would that someone happen to be in the nature of a ghost or revenant here on Mundus? Or was it someone already in your own Shivering Isles?"

"Er-- technically it's a magickal construct set up by-- I maintain it--but... yes," admitted Sheogorath. "It has its physical tie to the Blue Palace." He brooded. "Which is..." his voice trailed off.

"On?" prompted Yorvik, helpfully.

 "Mundus," grudged Sheogorath.

"Ah," was all that Thane Yorvik said. His entire bearing was gentle reproof.

"I broke no promises to her," said Sheogorath, defensively.

"Please sir," said Erdi. "You did tell me I could choose who to go home. And I choose him. Marcus. You said I could go with three. Not two. And--" she shrugged. "If I have to stay here, that's fine. But I.. I brought him here. He didn't know. I choose him. He goes home."

"And I said that I chose the dead," said Sheogorath, wrathy. "Me. Myself. I. If you'll recall. But you tried to take that out of my hands now, didn't you?"

"Oh now," said Thane Yorvik. "As if you weren't going to hang that guy up someplace anyways. Giving even me a headache." He settled back down in a chair, rubbing his forehead.

"I didn't lie," Sheogorath said again, testy. "I said three. Not four."

"You said three," countered Erdi. "Not two. And you never said that I had to be one of the three."

"See? Now you're contradicting yourself," said Sheogorath, happily. "Either I meant three, and I cheated. Or I didn't tell you that you had to be one of the three, and I cheated... but not both. Well?" He looked to Thane Yorvik, challenging him.

"Oh, if we're gonna be puttin' forward those kinds of arguments," began Yorvik, but--

 "Any contract's construed against the party who offered it," said Thaena. 

Everyone turned to stare at her.

Thaena sniffed. "Anyway, it was under duress. No meeting of the minds, no good. Feh. Might as well say I came here on my own and invaded this mind-realm thing of yours when I had a dagger stuck in my neck." She frowned at Erdi. "Kolb's dagger," she clarified, pressing her heels down to produce a crunching of cartilage. "At Istvir's direction. In case you were wondering. He--" Yorvik, she indicated. "Came along only after those two threatened to cut me."

Yorvik continued as if Thaena hadn't spoken: "I wasn't considering any promises made to the young lady. You made a promise to that young man."

"What?" said the Daedric Prince. "Who?" Sheogorath looked genuinely puzzled.

"Marcus," said Erdi, impatiently. "He/him." Good gods, he has a beard! Use your eyes, she thought.

The mad god turned to Yorvik, utterly confused.

 "You gave him your sword," said Yorvik, patiently. "Said he could have it to take home. If he behaved himself and attempted your puzzles, which he did. Kind of implies he'd be going home, now." He drank off his wine and stifled a belch. "Else it's really it's not much of a gift, it it?" Yorvik touched the sword, which was now resting against the back of the chair. "Could call myself Yorvik the Ring-Giver without puttin' myself out too much, long's I was willing to murder my guests and prise my gifts back off their cold dead arms."

"I heard what I heard," said Thaena, talking over Yorvik, though really that was the only way to get a word in. "You told her she could leave with three people. Any confusion about whether she was counted herself in that number..." Thaena shrugged. "That's on you. Not her." 

Sheogorath started to speak, and Thaena cut him off: "Don't you try to answer-back a lawthane. It isn't fitting."

"How? How was I supposed to expect that she would be do that?! The nerve! Such caprice! It's just total chaos around here and I can't stand it!," Sheogorath burst out. And then, sulkily: "I fail to see what's so funny."

Thaena's laughter, soft at first, had risen to uncontrollable. She muffled herself behind a napkin. "Too much of an impulsive lunatic even for..." Erdi heard Thaena mutter. And then began to hiccup.

Erdi scowled.

  "Bah. Not sure what She would want with that young man anyways," said Yorvik, calmly. He poured himself more wine. "Seems to me that crazed old bitch'd be much more satisfied with Istvir or myself, considering we invaded her city and breached her Palace and her peace and all."

"What if I chose for Marcus and Thaena to go home," said Erdi, quickly. "And for myself to stay here or get killed. What are you going to do about your promises then?"

"FIne!" snapped Sheogorath. "I can see I'm not going to prevail!"

He sulked.

"I am NOT doing this because any of you told me I should," he declared. "I'm bored. That's why. So there."

Lord Sheogorath grumbled: "It's been so very boring since THEY'VE been gone... Nosey-parkers. Busy-bodies. Miserable self-aggrandizing little thieves." He heaved a sigh. "I miss them. Really. And it's even MORE boring around here since THAT ONE's been gone. So. Here-- Enjoy." 

He sniffed again, and pointed at Erdi: "Just remember: It was YOUR choice. Renka anta Nata. As the kids say, these days."

Was that a bell? Or was it the jangling of the metal decorations and the little silver bells on Marcus' outfit?

Erdi turned all the way around, to see the goat near the far edge of the field. 

Meeehhhh, it said, and went back to the grass, its bell clinking gently.

Erdi groaned in disappointment.

"Over there," said Sheogorath, impatiently.

Marcus was standing there, blinking and staring about in the mist blindly.

Erdi ran to him.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

Marcus shook his head: "Not now," he whispered.

Erdi touched his hand, and he startled.

His skin was freezing-cold, but warmed quickly. Erdi was afraid at first-- what had Sheogorath gifted them? But Marcus was shivering with cold, and so far as she knew, revenants didn't do that.

She patted his hand, trying to soothe him. "It will be all right," she said. "We're getting out of here; he's said so. It will just be a few minutes."

She was afraid Marcus would never respond to her at all, but after a minute or so his hand crept to clasp hers. "No time like...," he trailed off, shakily.

His wig was askew.

Very gently Erdi reached to put it right, and resettled his cap. She could not tell if Marcus wanted her where she was, so she stepped away, and came to face him. He looked like he was trying to speak.

"Please get me out of here," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "There are terrible things here."

"What things?" asked Erdi.

He shook his head.

Marcus' gaze remained locked on the near distance, somewhere between Erdi's feet and his own. 

His face held no expression whatever. 

Erdi took his arm and led him back towards the table.

"How about one more before you go?" demanded Sheogorath.

"Another?" said Yorvik. "Well, that'll be a stretch. Oh, I know. You ever wonder why we don't have a Dunmerish jarl sitting the throne in Windhelm today? Probably because old Jarl Hoag didn't quite have a stroke, when he found out what his heir was up to--" he coughed: 

" 'Who's that ashy-faced bitch?!' as I recall, begging your pardon. Well, that didn't go over well, and wasn't Crown-of-Stars wroth with him; their argument cleared the room. It worked out in the end, he came around and it was a lovely wedding, but then when Crown-of-Stars died and really all of our hopes with her--"

"-- when all was said and done, the lady elf said she'd had enough of the place, renounced whatever uxorial claim she had, and took herself back to Blacklight. Took most of the elders from the Grey Quarter with her, too. Sent that place into chaos, I can tell you that. So, I had enough of that nonsense, rounded everyone up, and went home to Heljarchen. Wife was happy about it. Windhelm's a terrible city."

"Scuse me," said Sheogorath suddenly. "Have to go through my check-list. Forget my own head if I don't." He ran through a few items and then-- "Luggage!" 

Silence.

"Luggage!" he barked again, peremptorily.

A burst of darkness-and-light, and an old, half-mad Bosmer wandered out into the clearing, babbling greetings and apologies.

"Master! You've taken me back! Does this mean we're going home? Oh, happy times! I can't wait to..."

"Oh, that's quite enough," said Sheogorath, moodily. "I have a headache. Let's send you ahead; draw a bath for me, will you?"

Sheogorath snapped his fingers. The Bosmer vanished.

He looked at Marcus, and sighed. "Not so long between installments, next time, hmm?"

"Huh?" said Marcus, finally lifting his head. 

-Snap- of the Daedric Prince's fingers and Marcus vanished as well.

Sheogorath growled a curse and snapped his fingers again. The sword winked out of existence.

Thaena made her way towards Erdi. "Thank you," she said. And: "Ready to go home, sir. And the next time you wish to strike an agreement, better have your law-thane draft it. Or at least have her look it ov--"

-Snap!-

Yorvik said: "Well, can't say it's been a pleasure, but any road the wine was good and the company was good and maybe it'd be best if you got some cushions in for next time, hey?" He rubbed his lower back. And: "Hope I'm not late for the harvest, my wife'll have a word to say about that, just like the time--"

-Snap!-

Sheogorath sighed, looking at Erdi: "I suppose you know what this means, mortal."

"Does this mean you're keeping me?" asked Erdi, anxiously.

"Nooo," said the daedric lord. "No. I mean, only in a matter of speakin'. Figuratively. Metaphorically. I mean, normally I invite my acquaintances out to New Sheoth-- food's better-- but I don't want YOU anywhere near MY realm. So. Enjoy. Have a good time being an adventurer. Someplace else--"

-Snap!-

She could still hear Sheogorath's voice, only faintly: "--far, far away from me."

She was standing in the Pelagius Wing in the midst of the spiderwebs.

"Hello?" she called. The stench of rotting bodies was choking thick. She thought she saw one huddled near the wall in the shadows. The red uniform of Haafingar, with a splash of blue. She didn't want to look.

"Anyone?" she tried again.

No one answered her cries. 

She walked back and forth, seeking. 

No one was present.

After a little while she gained courage and went to look at one of the bodies. It was a Nord in a Stormcloak uniform, his face too sunken almost to discern-- there was a scar on his cheek. Erdi didn't know how long it'd been there, but it looked like it had been more than a few days. She couldn't tell if he had a blind eye.

There were other bodies, mostly men in Stormcloak uniforms. Another in the uniform of the rebellious Haafingar Guard. He was so decayed it was impossible to tell if it were the man she'd seen with the axe in his chest.

She walked quickly, to get away from the bodies.

"Hey!" she called. "My friends aren't here! Where are they?" She turned all the way around, looking behind herself. "What did you do to them?"

No response. She walked up and down again, even grabbed a cup to see if she could-- nothing.

The sense of foreboding dread from these rooms hadn't gotten any better.

If anything, it had gotten much worse.

"You forgot your staff!" she called, brandishing it. 

No answer.

Erdi triggered the Wabbajack. The howling mouth spit a sullen mouthful of blue fire, which impacted the carpet. Dust rose.

Nothing happened.

"I'm sure you want this thing back!" and: "I definitely don't want it," she muttered, tossing it down onto the floor and walking away.

A few moments later she realized that the staff was back in her hands again.

"Don't you want your Wabbajack?" she called, invitingly.

"Keep it," said Sheogorath, in her mind. "Consider it a token of my esteem. My gratitude. My-- Oh for gods' sake, just take the damned thing."

"I'm just going to give it to my friend and he's going to lock it up," she said, sulkily. "Or cut it up for kindling."

Assuming that Sheogorath had told her the truth.

Sheogorath said nothing.

"Maybe I'll see what this thing does to dragons," she muttered.

Nothing.

The hallway ahead of her was curiously clean, as though she or Una had seen to it. There were no marks or stains on the walls. As she walked through the part that was visible from the gardens, the area was nearly pristine. Fewer cobwebs.

The carpet she walked upon muffled all sound.

She could hear only her own heartbeat.

Erdi opened the door to the Pelagius Wing, stepped into the service hallway, and then opened the door leading out to the antechamber. And gasped: there she was, Erdi the palace maid, in her own mundane clothes, the ones she'd used for working in the kitchens. Standing right next to the guardsmen with whom she always stopped and chatted, before attending to the greenery behind them.

Sheogorath's voice whispered in her ear. "See there, mortal? If this adventuring business has become too much for you... step right up there. You'll be right back where you came from. The little maid. No trouble. Always reliable. Yes sir, no sir-- no one sees you. You won't even need my intervention-- no one even noticed you were gone."

"Where are my friends?" Erdi demanded.

"Will you settle down!? Demand this-- demand that. My head!-- so impatient. Coming in right behind you, any minute now," said the Prince of Madness. "Once you choose. Decide. Pick. Select. Elect. Whatever it is you are going to do." 

He chuckled suddenly, almost affectionately. "I don't mind sayin' that I hope you keep on with this adventuring business," said Sheogorath. "Certainly keeps things lively! But." His voice turned sharp. "One caveat."

"I'm not scrubbing floors again," she grumbled. Or anything else I've got to do on my knees.

 "Ah ah! You can keep on this adventuring path, but just you be remembering something." Sheogorath was smiling; Erdi didn't need to see him to know that.

"You belong to me," he said, happily. "So. We'll be seeing you again. Somewhere, sometime. Though not in New Sheoth. It'll be a date. Maybe you can host! We'll pencil you in. I'll have my people talk to--"

A door slammed shut behind her and Erdi jumped, turning to face the new threat.

It was only Thane Yorvik, stepping from the service wing door into the Blue Palace proper, and looking about himself, puzzled. Right behind him came Marcus helping Thaena, who was moving slowly.

"Thank goodness," said Erdi. "You're back. Things have gotten very strange."

"Hm? How so?" asked Yorvik.

Erdi pointed towards the Great Stair and the apparition of her double, but as soon as she looked back to it, it was gone.

"Never mind," she said.

"What time is it?" asked Marcus.

Erdi looked at the angle of light coming in through the windows and sniffed the air. "Dinnertime," she said, positively. "They've gone to their seating and the service trays should have been brought down to the hall by now."

"So what do we do?" queried Marcus. "Sneak out of here?" 

That was going to be fun, getting past the door guards. They would certainly be asking plenty of questions, especially if it had been a few days since they'd seen Erdi and Marcus come in. They would have never seen Yorvik or Thaena, as they'd let themselves in one of the back gates.

And those Blue Palace guard fellows, Erdi knew, lack any sense of humor or whimsy at all.

"I.. think we had better all wait here until I can get someone down here who's in charge," Erdi advised, as they all stood in the antechamber. The Blue Palace foyer was empty; the nobles and lords were at dinner; the servants upstairs and out of sight. Maybe she had a good shot at this.

Thaena sighed and lowered herself to the carpet, slowly.

"Could I get you something?" asked Erdi. "More wine, perhaps?--"

"If I never see a cup of wine again," said Yovik grimly,"that'll be a good day."

"I'm not hungry," said Marcus. "Feel kind of odd." He snuffled. "Gods, I can't get the smell out of my nose, horrible." 

He looked at Erdi. "Do the people here want to know that whatever-it-is in there has gotten much, much worse?" He grimaced. "Like, from a dead rat in a drain somewhere bad to... like a room stacked ceiling-high with naked rotting corpses, all bloated up and ruptured from being in the water...worse?"

"I will, ah, get somebody," said Erdi, and darted off.

Erdi was in luck; the three that she most wanted to speak with were standing together in the otherwise empty throne-room, debating some situation that had to do with tariffs.

She told the story as quickly as she could. Falk, a little stunned, took both the keys to the Pelagius Wing-- both the one Marcus'd pickpocketed from him and the one that Erdi had, weeks ago, traded to Istvir for Ahtar's life---and Falk promised to keep them better secured in future.

Thane Bryling took charge, and ordered a few guardsmen to escort Thaena and Yorvik and Marcus to a private chamber. Someone was sent to go get Thaena's daughter and a physician-mage. 

Thane Bryling and Falk Firebeard began to discuss plans for the proposed treaty and exchanges of hostages with Dawnstar, which Erdi had taken the time to advise them of.

Oddly, there was no talk about, say, throwing the lot of them in jail.

Sybille Stentor took Erdi back to her own chambers, and demanded that she tell the story again, from the beginning.

"I will want to talk with this mage-sniffer lad," she said, thoughtfully. "There is without a doubt something evil that rests in the Pelagius Wing, and I have kept my eyes on it for many years. Probably best we don't dwell on the details, as we stand here now."

Sybille Stentor agreed to go with Erdi and Marcus to Dawnstar and meet with Jarl Skald there, so long as her special needs could be accommodated. "Health issues," Stentor said, vaguely. "I'll take the Jarl's ship, that will be sufficient. And it will show Dawnstar that we mean business."

One more thing remained.

Erdi took a breath.

"Before I go, I need to speak with--"

"I'm not sure that's wise," said Sybille Stentor, hesitating.

"Even so," said Erdi. "I must insist." She smiled at Stentor; her own version of a professional smile. "There won't be another opportunity. And you won't need to worry about me-- not at all. I'm not coming back to this place." Not ever.

Stentor capitulated.

While she waited, Erdi looked around at Stentor's living quarters. Once these rooms had seemed intimdating--strange and exotic. All of it seemed rather ordinary, now.

Soon enough a palace functionary came to get her, and she made her way through the halls and corridors to the grand rooms of the jarl's suite.

The meeting did not take long.

She would get an answer soon.

Sybille Stentor had promised that appropriate precautions would be taken in regards to the Pelagius Wing, and Erdi knew that she could be counted upon to do it.

Erdi took what she knew to be her last look back at the Blue Palace.

She winced. It had only been a handful of weeks-- and it was no longer up to her standards.

"Somebody needs to turn that rug," she said to herself. And the flowers on the left-hand side needed deadheading. And what was that-- a discarded glove in the corner? A handkerchief? She stopped herself from going to investigate. Not her problem.

Erdi tugged her wig back into place, and re-adjusted her hat to the appropriate angle. She swept a quick bow in the direction of the dais, and left, striding quickly through the antechamber and the gardens, not slowing down until she reached the familiar brick streets of Solitude.

"I told them," she said to Marcus. "About the bad feeling; about what you smelled back there; about the Her/She/whatever that Sheogorath talked about..."

"Did they say you were crazy?" said Marcus.

"No, Stentor took me aside to talk to me about-- oh. No, not after I showed her the Wabbajack and what it could do." Erdi cinched her scarf closer to the back of her neck. The wind was chilly. "It wasn't a very big magickal fire, and she was actually very pleased about the rabbit. Anyways. I let her hold the staff, and she said it was without a doubt a true artifact." She frowned. "Do you think it's going to be all right where it's at?"

"I put it and the sword in one of those specially-reinforced cases in the Daedric Wing," Marcus reported. "The whole museum is like a magical null zone, it's really impressive. The Daedric Wing has even more precautions. Should be fine." He brooded. "This is the first time I've ever broken into a place to...Well. To leave behind priceless artifacts. When he gets back, Auryen will be delighted." He stood up. "Maybe Falk Firebeard'll even show a little gratitude and let him buy those gloves that're just sitting in that dusty display case over in the..."

"Wait a minute," said Erdi. "I thought you had a key to the museum. "

"That's a good thought," Marcus told her. "Keep it. Anybody asks you, that's what you tell them."

Erdi sighed. "How's your head?" she asked.

Marcus winced. "It'll be fine," he reported. "Tsvana sold me a little something so I'd be okay on the boat. Maybe by the time we board I'll be able to eat a little something. There's a little stand down by the dock, they have soup and things."

"Yeah," said Erdi. "We don't need a repeat of what happened on the way to Dawnstar."

Marcus grunted, as if to say that it had not been himself. Well, it hadn't; it had been Cyrelian and indeed it had been a mess.

"One thing," he asked Erdi.

"Hm?"

"Do you still hear that voice? You know who I mean."

"No," said Erdi, worried. "Do you?" 

"Told you it wouldn't leave me alone." Marcus seemed resigned now, rather than angry.

"Is it really bad?" she asked. 

"No, not so far," he said. "I have no idea what it's talking about-- what's a prompt?--but I mean, I'm not being told to go slit throats or take off my clothes and rub myself with clam chowder or anything. It's not that loud. I'll be fine." 

"Leaves you better off than Pelagius the Mad, at least," said Erdi.

"I've tried telling it: I don't know how to write. Not even just a little bit. I wish it would go away." 

"Don't you?" Erdi frowned at him. "How in the world do you catalogue all those artifacts--"

"Uh. I don't, not really-- I mean--um. Not at all. I can write my name and do tallies," Marcus admitted. "I'm the one who, you know. Puts the things on the shelves and the boxes in the storage." He brightened: "I draw little symbols and notches so that I can remember things. I can draw. If I see it, I can draw it, even later. And if something's already written down I can copy it. Or-- a lot of it is numbers in sequence, who can't do that?" He shrugged. "I can copy what Alfgar put down, from the box to the book, that's easy enough. And if it's one that I did-- just the symbols, I can just dictate it to Auryen or one of the staff."

"So is that why you're not really a relic collect--"

"Shut up," he said, quietly.

"Marcus," Erdi said. "How're you going to do any of this without the Dovahkiin?"

Because there was no way, she realized, that he was going to be able to explore one of these Nordic tombs by himself; and even if he did he'd have no end of trouble with the jarls and thanes who'd accuse him of stealing their artifacts. Alfgar the Dovahkiin had a name and reputation; they were happy to allow him access, but... Marcus?

And what would he do with the artifacts he recovered if he couldn't even adequately research and catalogue them? He and the Dovahkiin had explained to Erdi in exhausting detail about provenance...

"Otherwise we're just tomb-robbers," Marcus had said. "But we're not just after items of intrinsic value; we're here to document the material culture of these early Nords--"

Alfgar the Dovahkiin's snort had suggested that he at least was in it for those items of intrinsic value; but he was willing to humor Marcus so long as it paid well. And Auryen Morellus paid well.

"--I don't know," said Marcus, wearily. "I'll figure it out. Let's get these people on the boat to Dawnstar."

He looked very tired. 

"Did you sleep at all?" asked Erdi, sharply.

"Um? I tried, over at Lisette's, but Jorn and the others came in so we got up. They were getting loud and Sorex kicked us all out of the Skeever-- they're like two-thirds shut down; they want it quiet over there. Understandable. We took some bottles back to the Bard's College and then--"

"So no," said Erdi. 

She herself had napped on a cot in the Temple of the Divines, which is where Thaena and her daughter had returned for the evening. Yorvik had stayed with them and the High Priest had found a bedroll for him. "And you didn't sleep the night before," she mused.

"Heh. No." 

"How long were we in that place?" Erdi asked, suddenly. "Because Thaena said she thought it had only been about half a day, but that it felt like forever--"

"It's Sundas," said Marcus. "And it's only the next day. First thing I checked when I got outside." He rubbed his forehead again, looking pained. "Gate guard thinks I'm a crazy person," he said.

"Are you sure you're going to be--" 

Because you actually were dead, thought Erdi. I saw it. But death did not seem to have made much of an impression on Marcus. He hadn't even mentioned it.

"It's fine," said Marcus, impatiently. He tossed his hair back into place and began to go down the steps. "Sooner we're out of this place, sooner we're in Dawnstar," he said. "Let's go run those errands."

Beirand at Castle Dour was at work despite the rain that threatened. Erdi hadn't had the chance to even get near him yesterday. Thankfully, he was alone now.

Erdi passed along to him the few messages that she had from Dawnstar-- from Seren and Rustleif to himself and Sayma; and of course Ahtar to his kinfolk in Cyrodiil and to Jala, assuming she had come safe through her passage. They hadn't been able to afford a courier, or even paper and postage, but Ahtar had given her the general gist of his message, and she relayed it to Beirand.

A blacksmith's trade connections weren't as swift as the Imperial Post, but the message would get to County Anvil eventually, nonetheless.

Marcus waited patiently, which was unlike him.

He seemed lost in thought.

Erdi wondered what he remembered. But it wasn't quite the right time to bring it up.

She declined his offer to wait with her, shooing him off towards the Bards College and his friends.

Marcus, she thought ruefully, seemed to have the ability to make friends. And keep them. So far he was doing better than she herself had done.

Erdi spoke to a few others who happened by; acquaintances. 

Everyone assumed she was enjoying the sunlight, on one of fall's last mild days. No one commented on the armor. Then again, with the scarf covering up the shoulder-guards--by no stretch of the imagination were these pauldrons--it looked rather like a warm leather coat.

Dean Giraud happened by. He knew exactly what lecture Erdi was talking about-- the eruption of Red Mountain and the destruction of Morrowind was one of his favorite topics-- but he denied ever giving that talk in public. It was something reserved for upper-level students.

"It upsets people," he said, frowning. "Conditions were horrific there. Still are."

Maybe Marcus had heard about it from Lisette? Or from Auryen.

Erdi let it go.

She waited a little while longer, as the shadows lengthened.

No message came.

 And then it was time for them to go.

"Won't make them come down here any faster," said Marcus, glumly.

Erdi could see Thaena and her daughter, perched on one of the horse-carts, well up the hill towards Solitude. They were making their slow way down, Yorvik pacing beside them. 

Sybille Stentor followed, in a separate carriage with a great deal of baggage. "She said she wanted to talk to you," Erdi remembered.

Marcus made an odd noise. "That lady kind of scares me," he said.

Erdi laughed. There was nothing at all alarming about the fussy elder Breton.

Erdi looked down at the harbor, trying to determine where their ship was. She squinted, trying to make it out against the glare.

Then she amused herself by looking at the people on the docks.

"Look," she said suddenly. "Do you see what I see? The female Argonian with the hide armor."

"Stop pointing," said Marcus, irritably. "You look like a tourist."

He noted the tattoo on the Argonian lady's cheek.

"Great," he said. "Blackblood Marauders everywhere. With our luck, probably be our room steward."

"Marcus?" Erdi questioned. "Exactly what kind of ships have you travelled on?"

He was smiling again; a trace of his usual mischief. "Think I'll travel with Stentor," he said. "I bet the cabins are better on her ship."

Erdi settled herself down to wait.

No message came, from the Blue Palace or otherwise.

That was in and of itself an answer.

She had already known.

When they got down to the ships, Marcus did in fact immediately volunteer to go onto the Solitude ship with Sybille Stentor, thwarting Erdi's plan to speak to him about the events that had transpired in Thoriz Pelagius' mind realm. 

She and Thaena and Yllga and Yorvik took the Dawnstar ship. The little girl was worryingly quiet and did not roam far from Thaena.

"She's a big girl," said Thaena apologetically to Erdi, because the child sitting on her lap was causing her to take up the lion's share of the room. And, evidently, she did not want to let go of her daughter.

"I understand," said Erdi. 

Thane Yorvik was up standing at the rail, having announced that he needed to stretch his legs. Erdi got up to stand with him. The salt wind riffled her short hair, and she felt the cold acutely on her neck and ears. At least I'm not constantly pulling it out of my face, she thought.

"That story you told," she said to Yorvik.

"Hm?" he said. He had told dozens. But Yorvik knew very well which one she meant.

"I don't think you should tell that one anymore," Erdi said.

Yorvik raised an eyebrow, but remained agreeable. "What's the trouble?" he asked.

"It's hurtful," she said. "Ahtar would be so upset. Please." And: "I don't think Marcus knows about any of it. Or at least not the details of what happened. I hope he wasn't paying attention earlier-- I don't know. Please."

"Surprised you care about that, missy," said Yorvik, evenly.

"I do care!" she insisted, stung by the reproof. "Marcus already thinks pretty poorly of Ahtar. I don't want to have anything make it worse. Marcus doesn't really have kin that he can count on; only Ahtar." Well, and Marcus' older brother in Riften, but that man was pretty worthless. Maybe worse than that. Erdi had her suspicions.

"So that--" Yorvik hesitated, evidently skipping over some epithets. "Ah--young man-- he's a Decianus?!" His voice mirrored his disbelief.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Erdi lied. "He says he's got some Redguard." A little misdirection, suggesting that Marcus could be related to Ahtar's blood family instead. She could always pretend ignorance later.

"Hmf," said Yorvik, losing interest. He returned his attention to the horizon.

"Ice coming in already," noted Yorvik.

"Does that mean we can't get there?" asked Erdi, nervously.

"Oh no, not that. Just means it's getting real real cold north of here, current coming from that way. We don't need to worry about the harbor here freezing over for hmmm... maybe another month. Couple weeks, at least."

"I was kind of hoping to get to Winterhold," she said. 

Yorvik agreed it was still likely possible, for a few weeks. "And if nothing else you can walk along the beach," he said. "Cold as all get-out, but once it freezes solid you won't have much of a risk of getting wet, and there's shelters every mile or so along the way."

It took forever for them to get to Dawnstar Harbor.

Erdi fretted most of the way.


	8. Better Judgment

All four disembarked, but Erdi did not leave the dockside area until the verge of sunset. Thaena and Yllga had gone ahead, of course; a wagon had been immediately brought up to the docks for the two of them.

Erdi and Yorvik waited with the baggage that Thaena had hastily recovered from the Winking Skeever. Stentor's ship was much slower to dock.

As soon as she saw Marcus come down the ramp, Erdi caught up to him.

"Gods," she said, appalled. "Did you sleep?" He looked positively grey. And: "What happened to your neck?"

"Uh? Made a new friend," said Marcus, vaguely. "Also there was some burnt mead and you know how it goes, drinking that stuff." He rubbed his torso, in the approximate area of his liver, and looked around. "Should we get down to the longhouse, first?"

Thane Yorvik immediately vetoed this: "Man's got to be a jarl every other blessed day of the year. Today he's a father and grandfather. Let him be alone with his kin." He glanced up the path. "Looks like it's to be the inn."

"Sounds pretty good," agreed Marcus, hopefully. He glanced back up at the ship, as if to determine whether his new friend would be following along. Sybille Stentor was finally making an appearance, wrapped in a cloak and slowly making her way across the deck, supported by two of the crew-members.

"I'm thirsty," Marcus said. "Really thirsty. And hungry. Can we get going?"

"Try to stay out of trouble," Erdi advised him. 

Not that saying so ever did any good.

"Good morning," Erdi said to Bulfrek, the White Hall's servant. It was still very early. "Would the jarl happen to be available?" She frowned: "And, if he's not, would it be all right if I went down to the barracks on my own? That's where the jail is, right? I have to see what to do about my friend."

Erdi hadn't gotten much sleep. 

Thane Yorvik had come outside into the middle of it all, into the shouting and the screaming and the blood-- and without any fear at all slapped the knife-hand away and lifted Marcus up by the baldric of his jacket: "Enough!" he cried, just as the Dawnstar guards showed up and it was all: "By order of the jarl--"

Yorvik had probably saved Marcus from being cut down on the spot-- but, Erdi thought uneasily, his efforts may well have been wasted. A man lay dead. And now Marcus was in the jail, probably facing execution or a wergeld that would be impossible to pay except in blood.

And Marcus had been shouting things that made no sense. Erdi felt ill. One moment, happily sharing a couple of roast ducks with herself and Yorvik, and the next-- the screaming, that face of pure blind rage. Marcus had shoved the much larger Nord-- off-duty guardsman, Erdi suspected-- out onto the boardwalk and cut his throat on the spot. Marcus hadn't even been drunk. Not so far as Erdi could tell, anyways.

What had happened to Marcus, in Sheogorath's barren landscape? 

What had she done?

 After all of that, who could sleep? 

Erdi had tossed and turned fretfully.

She'd had terrible dreams. The dead, marching.

"Oh, not such a good idea, miss," said the jarl's servant. "Quite a lot of excitement we had last night. Better wait for audience time. Not expecting a lot of petitioners today-- and even if we was, I suspect he'd make the time."

After a few minutes Jarl Skald's housecarl Jod came in, taking his place next to the jarl's seat. He scowled at Erdi when he saw her waiting. He knew who'd she'd come into town with. 

It looked like he'd had a sleepless night, too.

Jarl Skald was exceedingly displeased.

"Your young friend's in my jail," he growled. "Got to have guards to keep him from my guards! What do you think I should do about that?"

"I, uh-- I don't know, sir," said Erdi, miserably. "I don't know what's going on with him. All of a sudden he just went crazy. I didn't think he was capable of murdering people!" She shivered. "I never want to see anything like that again, ever."

Jarl Skald grunted. "He's been babbling all kinds of things. Can't tell if it's nonsense or if there's some truth to it. Got one of my guard looking into it."

"What's he been saying?" Erdi wanted to know.

"Something about those damned pirates," the jarl said. "Ones who hurt those women. Didn't make any sense to me. Said my guards were-- something about secret hidden mages and marks of the blood and so on." He sniffed. "Lots of people heard him yelling. Going to be a lot of fun for me to prove the Pale Guard isn't moonlighting as pirates." 

Erdi stood still, remembering. Cyrelian and Ahtar had told her to be wary of the Dawnstar guard. One of the Khajiit had seen a man with a similar face-tattoo. Was it really some kind of initiation mark for the Blackblood Marauders? Or was it just something that had been in fashion amongst sailors? Erdi didn't remember seeing a tattoo on the neck of the man whom Marcus had killed, but there was a lot of blood. Had there been? But there was that Argonian on the Solitude docks. Had the pirates infiltrated both cities?

"Why don't you have Thane Yorvik look into it?" she suggested. "Instead of one of your local guardsmen. That way there won't be any doubt."

"Better than having the rooster say there's no eggs in the henhouse," mused the Jarl. "Well, I thought to trial him as my lawthane. Maybe this'll be a good test. Frokmar's boys could serve as guards in the jail. Give them something to do other than eat my food."

"Jod!"

"Yes, my jarl?"

"You heard me. Get Heljarchen down to the barracks and have him start looking into this mess. Go see Ingrid and her girls today and tell them that the matter's under investigation. Usual sympathies. Oh-- and spread the word-- whatever I happen to set Stigg's wergeld at, I'm setting that boy's three times higher. No one touches him."

"Yessir."

"Any who dare test my justice will feel my utmost wrath," the jarl growled, his voice rolling to fill every corner of the room. "No lynchings. No accidental deaths. He stays inviolate until the conclusion of his trial, and I myself will set his sentence here. Not the people of Dawnstar." Skald's face had set into harsh forbidding lines. 

"Yes, my jarl."

Erdi went where she was told to go, into the comfortably-appointed living quarters to the right of the throne room.

Sybille Stentor sat within, drinking slowly from a mug filled with some herbal concoction. She greeted Erdi as if they were still at the Blue Palace and Erdi had come by to pick up her breakfast dishes and re-fill her tea. She had always treated Erdi well, no matter Erdi's current station. That had not changed. Stentor's pale, well-kept skin and plump round face made her seem, at a glance, much younger than her years. When she smiled at Erdi, the faint lines were barely visible.

Erdi said: "I hope you got to talk to Marcus on the way over. We've had a little excitement. And I'm not exactly certain whether he'll be available from now on."

"I did," said Stentor. "I thought I had questions before I spoke to him." She brought the liquid to her lips, but only inhaled its steam, rather actually drink. "I have more questions now," she said. "Many more."

"Still feeling poorly?" Erdi asked. Stentor had gone straight into one of the private rooms at the inn last night. She had missed all of the excitement.

"A bit," said Stentor. "Boats don't like me much, it seems."

Erdi sat down on the rug, her back to the hearth.

"Did Marcus tell you about what happened to him in the Pelagius Wing?" she asked. "Lord Sheogorath--"

"Hm. He was not very forthcoming on that matter. And my primary concern was and is the security of the Blue Palace." Stentor delicately sipped her drink. "If one of the pre-eminent daedric princes is concerned about something, then I am worried indeed." She looked at Erdi. "What is your association with Lord Sheogorath. Is it new?"

"Not really," Erdi admitted. "Remember when Una collapsed and said she saw that ghost?"

"Who could forget," murmured Stentor. "You could hear the wails all over--"

"Well," said Erdi. "Really that was me. I had gone in the Pelagius Wing to clean, and ended up in the madgod's realm. That was the first time. When I went back in there with Marcus, we were carried straight back to his-- Um. Well, some realm that he governs. Not the Shivering Isles. It was the mind of--"

"--the mad Emperor, Pelagius the Third." Sybille Stentor looked thoughtful. "That young man said you spoke with the Emperor. What was your general impression?"

"Well, he was very sweet," said Erdi. "He said for me to call him Thoriz--" 

Stentor nodded, faintly smiling. "A well-mannered boy," she agreed.

"--And he didn't seem at all crazy, really. Sad, maybe." Erdi scowled. "It was Sheogorath who kept talking about entrails and executions and such. And they both said it was the 'other one' who wanted blood." Erdi's lips compressed. "Thoriz Pelagius was very concerned about the blood. And the armies of the dead. Said he had failed. I don't know at what. Said something was bleeding through his seeming? Something like that. I don't know."

"Would this something happen to be a lady, perhaps?" asked Stentor, sharply.

"Yes," said Erdi, with surprise. "They both said, "She." 

Stentor had gone even paler than usual. Erdi wondered if she were going to be all right.

Just then Thaena came into the room and approached the hearth.

 Sybille Stentor looked up towards Thaena: "Oh, hello. Did you get a chance to look over the first draft?"

"I did," said Thaena. "It will need substantial revision in the third codicil--"

"Um. Could I ask another question?" Erdi requested, interrupting.

Stentor opened her hand: go on.

"Did anything seem odd about Marcus to you?" Erdi asked. "Because he's never done anything violent like that before--"

Although he had certainly been quite good at cutting throats on the deck of the Icerunner. Erdi shivered.

"No," said Stentor, with relief. As though there had been some other question which she had dreaded answering. "He seemed like a nice young man."

"You won't credit this," said Skald when he came in. "But your young friend the murderer's not the biggest news this morning. Whole town's had nightmares, it seems." He yawned. "Vampires, revenants, deaths, portents. Bad dreams for days on end. Much worse last night. Now they're all complaining to me!"

He sniffed. "Must have me confused with that damned collaborator down in Morthal. Hmf." He sat in a chair by the hearth and Thaena got up to get him a drink. "Have to say that witch Idgrod'd come in handy right about now. She'd know what's what. Maybe see if she could do something about it." He thanked Thaena and drank. "That Dragonborn of yours wants me to make common cause with Morthal. Something about a mining town. What do you think about that?"

"I don't know the Dovahkiiin all that well," said Erdi, slowly. "But he has done some building projects he told me about. There's a fortress just over the border in Hammerfell proper that he helped with. And a farming settlement, just south of Heljarchen, on Pale Pass Road." 

Jarl Skald grunted. "Yorvik told me about that one," he said. "Putting up a tower there, to keep an eye on Whiterun Hold." He rubbed his face. "Or maybe to keep an eye on me... Not sure where his loyalties lie," the jarl mused.

"He's a Stormcloak, sir," said Erdi. "A far-sib, he said...not one of the important ones," she added.

Thaena tsk'd. "Don't you believe it. His mother was Aethlgifu the Warden." She held her own breakfast-mug, and drank from it. "One of old Hoag's sisters. He and Ulfric are cousins. First cousins, not the far-sibs he claims." She smiled at Erdi. "Part of my job is to know the kinship lines. As soon as you said he was kin to Ulfric, I knew who he must be. No one else is of the right age."

"Guess I have nothing to worry about," conceded the jarl. "Other than why he didn't tell me that in the first place."

"He says he's tired of everyone bothering him about it," said Erdi. "And he thinks there are people who, if they knew he was Dragonborn and out of the Stormcloak lineage, they'd be pushing to make him High King."

The jarl grunted again: "Wise. Ulfric's never named an heir." 

Now he looked even more thoughtful. And not very happy.

"Food's in the back," he said. "Might as well come in and help yourself."

Erdi followed the jarl into the kitchen, where he'd gone to assemble himself some breakfast from the sideboard. He had just started to open up a smoked slaughterfish when Erdi spoke:

"Is there any way at all that I can see my friend?" she asked him. "I'm very worried about him."

"Not certain that's such a good idea," said Jarl Skald, frowning.

"What did you dream last night?" he demanded, suddenly.

"I...I stood just down the path from Katla's Farm overlooking Karthkreath Strand, close by the city, and it was like a river of blood pouring out of the gates of Solitude. Over it marched the armies of the dead. Ranks of them-- draugr, skeletons, revenants, spirits, vampires." Erdi frowned. "And as they went by, I knew that all that they touched would... it would wither and die. They saw me, but none came near me, and I watched hundreds pass. Thousands, maybe." 

Erdi gasped a little: "Oh! I almost forgot-- Sybille Stentor was there. On a horse, in armor, looking all forbidding. Like a knight! She was riding with them, she had a banner and everything." Erdi covered her face and laughed, because the image was so preposterous. Jarl Elisif's wizard hardly ever stirred from her comfortable quarters. She complained if she had to take off her slippers for court shoes. 

"I suppose because I had just checked on her before I went to sleep. What did you dream, sir?"

"Something distressingly similar," said the jarl. "So did everyone else. Dreams have been plaguing us a few days now. Not too long after you left."

"So what's causing all this?" Erdi asked.

"Don't know. You didn't do anything to tip the balance of fate, did you?"

"I would hardly think so!" said Erdi. She gave a nervous little laugh.

What... what had she done?

"Hmph. Go talk to that priest fella when he's done leading devotions," said Jarl Skald. "See what his thoughts are and let me know. Got to find a way to deal with it somehow. And then--" his frown deepened. "I'll be dealing with your friend. Hear the demands of that guardsman's kin, and set his wergeld."

"I understand, sir," said Erdi.

"Might as well get yourself some breakfast," said the jarl. "We don't keep formal state outside of court hours."

"Would you like some of the fish?" asked Erdi.

"Not hungry," said Thaena. "Merane ran around last night bringing food in for us. I'm still as stuffed as The Gourmet's prize goose."

"Did Yllga eat?"

Thaena sighed. "A little," she said. "Not near as much as I'd like. She was tired. I'm going to let her sleep. She woke me up screaming last night."

"Nightmares?"

"Mm. Very bad ones, too," said Thaena. She began to pick at a bit of grilled leek. "I confess I'm feeling quite unsettled myself. I haven't had bad dreams since I was a child. And then, all last night--"

"The blood," said Erdi. "And the armies of the dead." She bit into her slaughterfish. "I think we need to tell the jarl what happened in the Pelagius Wing."

"Not on your life! I want to go home," said Thaena. "He'd never let me leave Dawnstar again. Ever since Mother died he wants to keep us wrapped up in tundra cotton." She sighed. 

"So what did you tell him?"

"I let Yorvik do the talking," said Thaena. "He's good at that."

Erdi scoffed. She ate some fish. 

 "What did Yorvik say?" she asked, curious.

"That we were being detained in the Blue Palace and that our names simply hadn't been put on the list yet for ransom." Thaena leaned forward. "Believe me, it's better this way. My father worries. He'll make me leave Yllga here! Bad enough Assur's staying." 

When Erdi raised her brow, Thaena got even more emphatic: "No. I don't think so."

Erdi served herself another fish steak and some more vegetables.

"Perhaps it's best," she agreed, and sighed. "I really need to speak with Marcus."

She wasn't so very hungry as she had thought, but she forced herself to eat. It was a good meal, and she wasn't paying for it, after all.

Marcus, she realized with a sudden pang, had been in charge of their finances. What had happened to their money?

When questioned, Thaena said: "Ask Jod."

Jod of the Pale had been Jarl Skald's housecarl for the last ten years. Up till Ulfric Stormcloak raised his banner, those years had been serene. 

Now he looked like a man with a lot on his mind.

"Excuse me?" Erdi asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah?" said Jod, wearily. He squinted at Erdi. "What do you want?" Despite his words, he didn't stand like a man who was trying to intimidate anyone. He glanced at the empty hall, and wiped his eyes. "Head pounding like a forge," he apologized. "Don't take offense."

"When my friend was arrested," said Erdi. "He had some things with him that I need to recover. Is there any way I can see about getting those back?"

"Not my call," said Jod. "Talk to Frokmar or maybe Yorvik. I can't help you."

"Did-- did you know the man who was killed?" asked Erdi, even though Jod didn't seem to feel like talking.

"Yeah. Between you and me, Stigg was kind of worthless. Made trouble where there didn't need to be trouble. Pushed people around." He grimaced. "Don't like how he treats his wife. Treated. Had a girlfriend on the side. She didn't know about it. Does now."

"Do you think it's possible he could have been part of the Blackwater Marauders?" asked Erdi.

"That mangy piece of pit-bait?" Jod sneered. "Anything's possible."

"What's the girlfriend's name?" asked Erdi, curious.

"Hey!" snapped Erdi. "Watch it!" She'd stumbled and nearly fallen to her knees in the slushy slop near the front door.

"Can't sleep no matter how much ale I drink," muttered the drunk as he shoved past, some of the contents of his mug slopping out at her feet. "Oh gods, the dead..."

Erdi watched him go down the street-- still looking around and back over his shoulder.

Maybe the man wasn't normally a drunk. His clothes still looked neat and well-kept. His hands were shaking, but it was not the tremors of a man wracked by drink-lack. He'd smelled of strong ale, but not the horrible stink that drunks take on, in time.

It wasn't drink. It was fear.  


For all of that it was peaceful inside, and cozy warm.

"I was wondering, Father-- maybe you should take the day off and head into town? I could watch the inn." The bard, Karita, toyed awkwardly with her bracelets. "Maybe visit Fruki or Irgnir? I've seen them looking at you when you serve up the drinks..."

She glanced at Erdi and smiled.

"Why would they be looking at me?" demanded Thoring. "Are they upset about the service?"

Karita groaned.

"D'you want me to explain it to him?" murmured Erdi, fascinated. Karita was blushing. 

"Oh, gods, no," said Karita, whispering as well. "I'm just-- you know. He's been so much unlike himself since Mother died. No more jokes, no more stories... he can't just sit around mourning forever. He needs to get out more. I just thought maybe--" she sighed, and indicated the priest of Mara, who was sitting at a bench in the corner, working his way through a plate of eggs and ham-and-saltrice.

Erdi took her meaning: Karita's plan was to get her father married off again.

"Anyway," Karita said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Not really," said Erdi. "I just came down to see if there was any news about you know-- what happened. I just came from the jarl's. I can't believe that happened."

"Well, we always thought something like that would happen to Stigg," said Karita. "But we were pretty sure it would be his wife. Ingrid always did have a bit of a temper."

"Did he ever bring Rena around here?" asked Erdi. "I got to hear all about that."

"That he did," said Karita. "Ingrid wouldn't set foot in this place; she had some falling-out with my mother, years ago."

"Huh," said Erdi. "Bit risky, wasn't it?"

Karita shrugged: "They had small children. Kept Ingrid busy. And their house is all the way up the hill. So I guess he thought he was pretty safe."

"So I'd gather this Rena lives someplace in the other direction?" asked Erdi, idly.

Karita hesitated. 

Erdi tapped her own chest, where the amulet of Dibella would have rested, and traced a quick sigil: me too! 

Karita brightened immediately: "Rena? She's got a small house in the waterfront district. Lots of comings and goings. I don't know why she comes all the way up here. Should stick with the establishments down there." Karita made a rude little gesture. "Suit her better."

And, well, that was pretty damning, thought Erdi-- a dedicate of Dibella suggesting that the lady was no better than a dockside whore, fit only for the swill-joints.

"Will we be seeing more of you tonight?" asked Karita. "Father asked if I would sing."

"Yes, of course," said Erdi. "That sounds delightful." 

She thought for a bit. "Did Thane Yorvik say he was spending the night again here? If you've got a scrap of paper or a slate, I've got a message I'd like to leave for him."

After Erdi left the note for Yorvik, Karita talked her into going into the family's apartment and having a look at the little Shrine of Dibella that her mother had put up, so many years ago--Karita had made little strands of irregular pearls and fish-scale pearls and polished seashells and wound them around its base. Instead of snowberries, she had used blue spruce branches and juniper berries. A subtle arrangement of soft blues and greyish greens, and lovely. Erdi complimented it profusely.

As they came back out into the taproom, some of Dawnstar's miners came in for lunch; one of them getting more agitated by the moment: "It's a curse! It has to be. I have to get out of this town, I have to--"

"Irgnir, get ahold of yourself," called one of the other women.

"Terrible!" gasped Irgnir. "All I could see, everywhere. The dead, shuffling along--"

There was a gasp, and then murmuring among the other mineworkers-- had they all had the same dream?

"Blood in sheets and torrents, raining from the sky," said one.

And: "...red banner of the wolf..." Erdi heard.

"The sound! Bone grinding on bone-- creatures with no flesh at all!"

"It's just dreams," called out one of the women, contemptuously. "They can't hurt you."

"Listen to your friend--- Fruki, Irgnir. They are just dreams," called the priest of Mara, getting up to address the miners.

Irgnir, still trembling, approached him and he spoke to her in a softer voice.

"... nothing to worry about, my child," he said. "I will petition Lady Mara for her aid in chasing these nightmares away. We will have another service tonight."

"Erandur, she has a point-- you keep telling us no harm will follow these dreams, but they must be an omen," said the most fearless of the miners, pulling back her dark hair.

Some of the other townsfolk came forward to argue with Erandur. They were all talking over each other.

The dark-haired woman turned to speak under her breath to Erdi: "If dreams can't hurt you, why is that priest carrying a mace around? Pretty sure Mara's rites don't require anyone to be bludgeoned."

"I dunno," said Erdi, who had her own opinions about Mara. "Some days I have my doubts." 

"Erandur stays up in that abandoned tower," put in Karita. "So maybe he has to warn off vagrants and the like?"

The patrons continued to make demands of the priest, their voices rising.

"Give him the chance to speak," called Thoring from his place at the bar, cutting through the din. "He's trying to help us."

"Everyone, please," said Erandur the priest. "I'm doing what I can to end these nightmares. In the meantime... all I ask is that you remain strong and put your trust in Lady Mara."

Some of the miners left, but the rest came forward in turn for Mara's blessing, which the priest sketched onto the heart and forehead of each.

Erdi, in turn, stepped forward.

"No! Um, I don't need a blessing," she said. That was the last thing that she needed, Mara's blessing. "Could I maybe have a word with you alone?"

"What troubles you, my daughter?" murmured Erandur, weary and resigned. He took a few steps, guiding her to an alcove at the side of the taproom.

"What's going on?" asked Erdi.

He told her.

"Oh, dear," said Erdi, faintly. "I had better go see the jarl to see if you can get some help."

"Look, I don't care," said Erdi, exasperated. "If you don't help me out with this, I'll go up while court's in full session and beg my boon of Skald right there. I am not leaving here without my friend."

"What do you care?" said Thaena. "I didn't even get the impression that you liked him."

"Usually--" admitted Erdi "--I don't. He's infuriating. But that isn't the point. I brought him into that horrible place, and it did something to him, and now I have to get him out of this mess." She raised her hands. "He said that the mad god wouldn't let him go-- that he'd keep him forever. But I have to try, don't I? What kind of person would I be if I just left him here?" 

Or... "And if he did get driven crazy, shouldn't I try to get him a priest or a healer or something?"

"Oh, sure," said Thaena. "We could let him out of jail. That's all right. What happens if he gets annoyed with you, next? Zzzsst!" She made a cutting motion near her neck.

"Are you still your father's lawthane?" asked Erdi. 

"No," said Thaena. "That was when Korir was still just a thane here. Now that he's Jarl of Winterhold, I need to go there to be with him. I was just delayed because Yllga was so ill."

"So you wouldn't have, say, some conflict of interest if--"

"If what? If I serve as his advocate? No. I need to go home to my husband and get my daughter settled in. No offense, but I don't have the time it would take to handle a murder case." Thaena sniffed. "In any event, your friend would never be able to pay the wergeld, so he'd sit in jail anyway."

There were two punishments for killing, Erdi recollected: the wergeld price, in which a man's worth had to be paid out to his family... and the jarl's penalty, for the crime of the murder itself. Generally the jarl's penalty was a hanging or beheading, but one never knew. Skald had a reputation for being inventive.

"You would not be here if not for Marcus," said Erdi, firmly. "If he had not been there, I would have been eaten by a wolf or hagraven, burned up by a fire elemental-- not to mention that next fight in the clearing. That soldier-- Brr!" She frowned. "He was killed, you know. He was actually dead. I saw it all happen. He got killed because he came along to help me out. To help you out."

Thaena sighed. "I thought we were even when I convinced the mad god to let him out."

"Not a chance," Erdi told her. "And your father promised to pay me when I got you home. So what wergeld is he going to put on his daughter and granddaughter's life? Hm?"

"He would have gotten Yllga back eventually," said Thaena, sullenly. "The priests were beginning to send out couriers."

"Alive?" questioned Erdi. "Because she's pretty sick. I'm sure you know how to care for her in a way that those priests don't." Thaena had complained the whole way back about how much Yllga had declined, over the weeks that Thaena had been trapped in the Pelagius wing of the Blue Palace.

"Fine! I'll talk to my father. I just-- I'm not sure it'll do any good. And this isn't a good time to get him upset. He's an old man, and he's very tired. This lack of sleep can't be good for him."

"Tell the jarl I'll stay here and look into this problem of these nightmares," said Erdi. "But I need Marcus to help me solve it. You can tell him that part's not negotiable. Or I'm moving on."

"Do you know something about these nightmares?" Thaena asked, immediately.

Erdi folded her own arms and said nothing.

"Fine," grumbled Thaena. "But he's going to ask questions. You need to stay here so they can be answered. You're not fobbing all that off on me."

Erdi said, quickly: "I can stay right here with Yllga, by the fire."

Thaena glanced over, and said, softly: "Good. Try to keep her from whining. If she gets herself all worked up, she has trouble getting her breath."

So Erdi looked around the jarl's sitting room and the kitchens to find something that might entertain a small child, as Thaena went to fetch her father. They came back arguing.

"No--I don't understand!" she stormed. "Korir and I want to raise our own son! You've had Assur all summer and had time to teach him, and all he talks about is the fishing and the horker hunting. It's long past time for him to come home."

"I'm an old man," said the jarl, cannily. "Got to teach him while I can. What if next year is too late?"

"He's a little boy! I want to have my family back. In Winterhold. Which is the place you said we belong--"

 Yllga looked up, but Erdi merely raised an eyebrow as if to say-- Eh, that's just how they are. Yllga relaxed. Erdi went back to showing her how to make napkin animals.

Skald and Thaena's argument raged back and forth, and Erdi wondered uneasily how this was going to make the jarl look more favorably on her petition.

"So what are we?" Thaena demanded. "Your dependents? You said that when Korir stood for Winterhold that it would be an independent kingdom once more-- not one governed by Windhelm, and not one under the auspices of the Pale!"

"So I did," Skald murmured. "And I meant what I said."

"And then you chose this time to secede from the Empire, before we even had confirmation from the Emperor of his jarldom-- what are we going to do about that? Pray that someone doesn't challenge it? Hope that your precious Ulfric wins the war next spring and that Korir's still in his favor by then? Kingdom?! We'll be lucky if we actually have a jarldom!"

Erdi shifted uncomfortably. Well, that was an interesting question. What was going to happen when all the jarldoms passed to the next generation, if there was to be no High King or High Queen anytime soon? If a jarldom fell vacant, who would confirm the jarls' aethelings or the holdmoot's choice?

Falkreath had just changed hands. Had Jarl Siggdeir been confirmed? The Third Empire had a policy of home rule-- did the Emperor even possess the authority to make jarls? Skald was an old man-- surely this was a problem that had been on his mind. Or Idgrod Ravencrone's.

She should not be listening.

Erdi listened anyway.

"Fine!" grumped the jarl. "You can go as soon as you like. With Yllga. Assur stays here, at least until..."

"I understand," said Thaena, upset. "You think you know what will be. Well, if that is what comes to pass, don't you think it will upset Assur to know that he was not at home because you thought he was not man enough to--" she hesitated. Yllga was in the room.

"It was your husband who made that request," Skald said, grimly.

This was inarguable. Thaena started to cry.

"Are you going to be all right?" Erdi whispered to Yllga.

"Mama cries a lot." The little girl had taken a great deal more interest in tying a napkin-dress onto her doll. "Usually when the priests come to talk to her, though."

"Ahh--" Erdi handed her another pin. "If you put another one on top, like this, that's a stola, see? That's a Nibenese wrap that goes over the tunica. To keep the sun off... or maybe just to look pretty, I guess."

Behind her the conversation moved on whilst Erdi was not paying attention.

"And now we have this situation," said Thaena. "You don't know the half of what went on in Solitude. I owe my life to that young man, and you're keeping him locked up like some common criminal! I thought you were going to take this pirate situation seriously, and you're just treating him like he's some kind of liar?"

She ruthlessly interupted Skald: "You didn't even try asking one of those poor women to see what they know. I bet at least one of them could tell you." She sniffled. "He had all kinds of things to say about these pirates-- did you even ask him if he had personal experience?"

"I'm not treating that boy differently than anybody else!" Skald snapped. "He stays until wergeld is set and I get some kind of answers from Yorvik!"

"Please," said Thaena. "I want her to come with me to Winterhold. Right now we're just a... a cattle byre with aspirations. She knows the things I need to know to make it a kingdom. Please. I need her help."

Erdi blinked. She wasn't aware of anything she herself might know that a trained lawthane wouldn't, but--

When Skald addressed her, Erdi said: "I can't leave until this situation with Marcus is resolved, sir. And I've just started out being an adventurer; he's kind of teaching me what I should be doing. I don't think I could go forward without him. He knows about lore and revenants and curses and things that I'm still learning."

She said: "As long as I know that Marcus is going to be all right, I can go on to Winterhold. I have friends there."

"Do you think you can get to the bottom of what's causing these nightmares?" Jarl Skald demanded.

"That priest of Mara does. He isn't able to go through that ruin on his own, though," Erdi said. "I can help--but I don't even know what dangers to avoid. Or what's important and what isn't. That's why I need Marcus. I already went down and spoke to the Dovahkiin. He says he can't do it-- not and make it out to where he needs to be for that project of his. And his knee's not healed up yet-- he can walk, but he can't be climbing around or fighting with it. He said I shouldn't go up to that tower and try to explore alone, either."

Skald sighed: "I hope you realize, young lady, that this goes against my better judgment..."


	9. Pardon

"You owe me," hissed Thaena, as soon as the jarl was gone. "I had to throw a tantrum like a little child. Yllga doesn't even act this way! This better be worth it."

Erdi apologized profusely for the much-appreciated and very necessary sacrifice of a lawthane's dignity.

Jod waited with them. 

Jarl Skald had not been willing to simply let Marcus out of jail-- oh no. Instead Skald had chosen to stand surety for the dead guardsman's wergeld, and to temporarily release Marcus into Jod's custody.

If Marcus did something Jod did not like, back to jail Marcus would go. Assuming Jod felt like bothering. If Jod didn't, or if in Jod's discretion it became necessary, Marcus would get an arrow in the base of his skull. Jod had already been exempted from the jarl's recent declaration of Marcus' wergeld.

And, if Marcus ran and managed to get himself away without getting shot-- well, Erdi was going to end up owing the Jarl of the Pale a whole lot of money, because this had all been her idea.

Jod asked how things were going to go, and they made some tentative plans. 

The priest, Erandur, had told Erdi that the problem causing the nightmares was an artifact of the Daedric Prince Vaermina, which was located at the bottom of the Tower of the Dawn-- the same ruined structure Erdi had noticed looming on the horizon, when she'd first come into Dawnstar.

Erandur thought that it was possible that there would be some trouble inside. If it was trouble that she, Marcus and Jod couldn't handle-- plus the priest, he'd said he had some Destruction magick-- they would retreat back to Dawnstar and obtain assistance.

Thaena would not be coming with them-- she and the jarl and Sybille Stentor were still going over the truce treaty, and negotiating the terms of some rights to some fishing grounds. 

And, of course, Thaena needed to attend to Yllga. And be taking her on to Winterhold, tomorrow or the next day.

Marcus had a weapon again, Erdi was nervous to see; but after a few minutes of conversation with Yorvik, Jod had simply gone over and handed the shortsword to Marcus. "Feel like murdering someone else, better start with me," warned Jod. Apart from a swift glance, Marcus hadn't bothered with a response. He wasn't stupid.

They had their traveling money back, too-- this time, Erdi was carrying it.

Marcus refused to explain any of what had been going on in his mind previously; he just shook his head.

 "Good," approved Thaena. "Smart. Keep your mouth shut." She frowned at Marcus. "Wait on Yorvik's investigation," she advised.

"How much is that guy's wergeld?" Marcus wanted to know. Guardsman Stigg's, he meant.

"Don't know," said Jod. "Jarl's meeting with the widow tomorrow morning. The guard-captain had to go over the books to see what Stigg was still owed. Then they gotta deal with it at the assizes. Early this winter." 

Marcus made a noise suggesting that he had lost interest. He drifted away to examine the decorations on the wall, picked up a seashell from the bookshelf and turned it over in his hands.

 "So what's the plan?" Marcus asked, after no one had said anything for awhile. He continued to fiddle about with Jarl Skald's precious sentimental items and Erdi wished he'd just stop.

"We return to the inn and meet with Erandur," said Erdi. "As soon as he's ready, we'll go to this tower and see what he needs for us to do. He said that if this artifact of Vaermina's gets destroyed, it should stop her from being able to affect the memories and the dreams of the townspeople." 

"That is likely accurate," commented Sybille Stentor. "The Daedric Princes are barred by their own agreement from taking direct actions here on Nirn, except under very specific circumstances. But they can certainly still try to affect our world via their artifacts, which is why these artifacts are so dangerous." 

"Why are they so sought after?" Erdi wanted to know. "If they're dangerous, I mean."

"Because the power which is contained within these artifacts is always going to be attractive to the worst sorts of men or mer," said Stentor. "Some have the arrogance to believe that they can control or direct an object which is really an aspect of a Daedric Prince. Generally to their chagrin, or that of those around them." 

"So what's this artifact doing in the Tower of the Dawn?" 

Sybille Stentor shrugged: "I had heard of a Vaermina sect taking up residence there at one time, but no one seems to know what became of them. Vaermina is not a benevolent daedra, to be sure-- but normally her cultists keep to themselves and bother no one. I've never heard of them causing nightmares before. Not here in Skyrim."

"So what are the chances I can go back to the ship and pick up some of my stuff?" asked Marcus. He was still speaking in a subdued voice, but his eyes were glinting mischief. Erdi didn't trust him.

Jod drew breath, but Erdi got there first: "Not a good idea," she advised. "Tell me what you're after and I'll go down there and pick it up."

Marcus sighed. "Please," he said. "Tell me that you're going to be careful handling it. Very careful. Not like what you did with that staff."

Neatly reminding Erdi of her own little murder. He would have killed us, she thought resentfully. I just got there first. At least, since it had happened in Sheogorath's little conceit of a mind-realm, she wouldn't get in trouble. Well. Assuming Yorvik said nothing. 

Erdi was certain that Thaena would never say a word.

"I had hoped, my child, that the jarl would see fit to offer more assistance."

"Well," said Erdi, taking a breath and going on, determinedly cheerfully. "We're what you've got. The jarl said he couldn't spare any more guardsmen right now. We're not sure what's going on out there--"

"Stormcloaks are conducting a little exercise," said Jod, stolidly. "Don't worry about it. Not our problem."

Well, if by "little exercise" he meant "multiple houses being searched and people out on the street screaming at each other" --Erdi supposed that could be an accurate statement. She'd been told that the jarl had barred ships from leaving the harbor today, and there was an impressive number of warships being manned to enforce that dictum.

Marcus had barely glanced at the commotion, even though he himself had drawn some stares.

"Back to jail for the night," said Jod. "Safest place for ya."

Marcus gave only a half-hearted argument.

Perhaps Marcus had been paying attention after all, thought Erdi. She didn't know what this thing with all the gears and wires was that she'd been toting around for him, but it certainly was complicated. He'd already snapped at her for touching the wrong bit of it the wrong way.

"I suppose it will have to do," the priest had murmured, once the other two had gone.

"If you're so dissatisfied," Erdi said hotly, "Why don't you find your own little crew? Beggars can't be choosers."

Erandur spread his hands: "Meaning no disrespect," he said. "I fear that there will be a great deal of fighting that needs to be done, especially given the size of the place."

Size of the place?

Erdi started asking more questions, and the priest slipped up again.

"Return?!" she questioned. 

Erandur folded his arms and withdrew into that haughty elf-expression she knew oh so well.

"Don't give me that," warned Erdi. "I know you're holding out on us. If you fail to give us the right information and we run into trouble that you knew about and we couldn't foresee-- well. Don't expect us to stick around. I'll get the others to leave with me."

Erandur drew breath.

"Save it," Erdi advised. "I'm not interested in your secrets. Just tell us what we need to know, when we need to know it-- to get this job done."

And she left, before the mer could get the last word.

He did say something, but she completely ignored it, as though she had not heard; and then the great wooden door swung shut.

Ha.

She went back up the walk to the Jarl's longhouse.

"Got him back, locked up safe and sound," said Jod. "We're going up first thing in the morning."

"Good," said the jarl. "As soon as you're finished with his services, bring him back to Yorvik's custody. I don't want you to give him the opportunity to even think about escape."

"Will do," said Jod.

"Hmf. All squared away?" asked the jarl, of Erdi.

"Yes sir," she said. "We'll be leaving in the late morning, after the priest is done leading devotions."

"Let's see," said Jarl Skald that next morning. "Guardsman Stigg was thirty-seven, and according to Jod here, was in reasonable health. And, as Jod puts it, 'capable of good work.' Heh. Perhaps I ought to allow Jod to keep a tighter rein." He ran his finger down the account. "His hours of work per annum would have come to--"

"No," said Thaena. "Any calculation you could do is premature. Yorvik notified me last night that his investigation is still ongoing. There are fourteen men in custody waiting to be questioned and three ships seized."

"It hardly matters," mused Skald. "Wergeld is wergeld." He paused, his finger holding his place. "A killing's killing; even if the man were the head of these Blackblood Marauders, there would still be money owing to the family. Boy wasn't acting under my orders, and I'm the only one who can authorize--"

"Authorize or pardon," said Thaena, crossing her arms and looking truculent. "And I don't agree about the applicability of the civil penalty. Not under these circumstances." She sniffed. "You will want to talk to Ilona first," she said.

"Hm? Who's--"

"You know," said Thaena. "Their leader."

 "One of the pirates' hostages," said Erdi. "Sheshemarjo thought she might recover from the experience without too many ill effects." Her expression turned savage. "At least one of the others was so mistreated that she forgot how to talk."

"Ilona was some sort of administrator back in Cyrodiil," agreed Thaena. "She's in her right mind-- at least, as much as somebody can be who's petitioning for an audience with you." 

"Ha," said Skald, without heat. He continued to read.

Then:

"So what d'you suggest I do about Ingrid and her girls? Maintain them indefinitely out of the public purse?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Thaena. "You know as well as I do that if Yorvik is on the right track that--"

She saw Erdi's keen interest and stopped talking. 

"Almost ready to get on your way?" Thaena asked. "Good luck out there. I'll probably be gone by the time you get back."

Erdi smiled at her and Yllga. "Safe voyage," she wished them in return.

"Well, here we are," said Erdi. "Lead the way!-- ready to go whenever you are."

The priest frowned: "What is that device?" He regarded it suspiciously.

"Dragon-killer," said Marcus. "It's a machine the Dovahkiin put together for me. Might be useful." He patted its quiver. "Poison bolts," he explained. "Kind of like a cross-bow. Only worse."

"I hate that thing," said Erdi.

Marcus ended up running ahead a bit, but before Jod could get excited about it, he headed for the corner of the Jarl's longhouse, where he was well within range of the door guards.

"You sure about this?" he asked Erdi. "Another Daedric Prince? I didn't really like what happened last time." He shook his head. "Weirdest dreams now, too."

"You're not having nightmares?" Erdi asked. Marcus blinked at her, seeming not in the least distressed.

"Hm? Revenants, undead, blood--" he shrugged. "I mean, it's a bit unusual..."

"....but, ah, better than-- "

Erandur, deciding to pick up the pace, broke into a slow jog. 

Marcus took advantage of the distraction to stop talking and to dart off after him.

Better than his usual sorts of dreams, Erdi translated. 

She shook her head and hurried to catch up.

Erandur led them at a brisk pace up and through the streets of town. 

A couple of the guards tagged after them, curious, until Jod snarled something at them. They loped off towards their own duties.

Erandur seemed to know every alley and cut-through in town; eventually they ended up on the back road behind the last row of houses, and began to head for the hill path leading up to the Tower of the Dawn.

As soon as the four of them were clear of the town, Marcus insisted that they stop to discuss what it was that they were to be doing.

"Shoot me in the back if you want," Marcus said. "Either tell me what's going on, or I'm heading back into town. I'm not going up there without some idea of what we're facing or what we're after."

Jod started to say something, but Erandur-- he for one was not out of breath-- was nodding.

"A fair question," he said. "First let's make the summit and ensure there are no creatures along our trail. We should do that first-- if there are too many wolves, we may need to go back until the creatures retreat or get some guardsmen. Once we are up on top of the hill and safe, I will go over our plans."

"I'm not going into that tower until I get some answers," said Marcus. "I don't know what's in there, but even from here I don't like the look of it."

"Understood," said the Dunmer priest, unruffled. He turned to go.

"So what are we likely to face on the way to the--" Marcus had noticed what Erdi did; the priest's hand never went far from his mace. Something was on that hill. Bandits, draugr, wild animals...

 "Jail or hill," said Jod. "Decide now."

Marcus groaned, aggrieved, and began to follow Erandur. 

Erdi ran after them.

The fluffy snow of the valley gave way to the crystalline snow of the hillside. It crunched beneath their boots as they jogged upwards. 

But for the soft sighing of the wind through the pines, the world was deathly silent.

Until they came over the crest of the rise and heard--

"Wolves," said Jod, disgustedly. He immediately strung his bow. "Always a problem picking off the goats."

Erdi said: "I've got the one in the front!" and ran up to it. If she could get a clean cut, it would make a good fur--

Wolves were easy, after their time in the marsh. 

Erdi feinted left and the wolf followed; she slashed at it and narrowly missed getting her sleeve caught in its teeth.

"Ah!" she cried, and swung at it again, connecting with its muzzle.

Jod's bow made short work of the creatures. Marcus set his weapon down without firing a shot, and ran up to prod at one of the beasts, making sure it was dead.

After he went back to grab that deadly machine, Marcus looked up at the path and said.

"Not sure what that is, up there-- it's pulling a fair amount of magicka. Be careful."

"Magicka sense," said Erdi to Jod. "Why do you think I wanted him along?" she asked, at Jod's look of disbelief.

"I hope it is just spiders," said Erandur. "There are frostbite spiders in the vicinity. Magicka-tapping beasts can be dangerous. Let's be wary."

Erandur began to lead them up the rest of the path. They could see their way all the way to the temple steps from here. Normally that would have made Erdi relax, but Marcus had not slung his weapon and he was still moving as if he were watching something.

"There!" Marcus smacked Erdi's arm and grasped it to turn her, pointing her in the direction of the beasts which had just emerged from the concealment of the snowdrift. Frostbite spiders, realized Erdi. The nasty beasts conceal themselves with illusion magicka, before ambushing their foes.

"Hold!" snapped Erandur, and a series of firebolts shot past Erdi towards the spiders. Each spider was briefly ablaze, burning off what remained of the illusion. They could be seen clearly now by all.

Erdi, who had stopped dead, waited until Erandur yelled for them to go in.

"Take the front one," called Marcus to her. "Keep it busy. Careful not to get bit!"

Erdi engaged her opponent, more cautiously than she had approached the wolf.

 The spider chittered at her and lunged, attempting to bite. It hissed and spat a viscous substance that caused her eyes to burn.

Erandur ran in to assist her.

A wash of amber-green light rolled through her, and her eyes didn't hurt any longer.

Erdi could hear the loud snap-thunk! of Marcus' bolts thudding into insectoid bodies.

Erandur took on two of the spiders at once with his mace, leaving Erdi to the third. 

She sliced at it again, causing it to rear back, its front appendages waving in the air.

She struck hard, and the blood spattered; and when she came in on the backstroke the spider collapsed, waving feebly. 

Another poison bolt struck it and it lay still.

Meanwhile Jod was shooting at the two spiders that Erandur was holding at bay, his rate of fire smooth and rapid compared to the ratcheting thunks of Marcus' machine.

Marcus closed the distance, keeping his weapon leveled on the last spider, but it did not move. 

Jod's bow had accounted for it.

Erandur shook his mace clean of spiders' blood and wiped his hand off in the snow, paying particular attention to his cuffs. He wiped the grip of his weapon clean.

"All present?" the priest asked. He went on: "I've been asked to say a few words before we get started about the history and prospective dangers of this place." 

A nod to Erdi.

"This structure is known locally as the Tower of the Dawn, a name that likely predates the temple which we will find inside. Quite some time ago, a sect of Vaermina worshipers established a presence here; a place they called Nightcaller Temple. The tower itself extends deep into the ground, which was a perfect place for the types of rituals they wished to conduct." 

"So who built it?" Marcus wanted to know. "Looks kinda old Nordic."

Erandur cleared his throat. "I'm not familiar with the tower's history, but it was deserted for quite a long time before Nightcaller Temple was established inside."

"Is the temple still active?" asked Erdi. She wasn't certain she wanted to be killing people even if they were Daedra worshipers. Maybe they could just recover or destroy this artifact and get out. "I didn't hear mention of any Vaermina worshipers when we were in Dawnstar," she said. She looked at Jod. 

Jod shrugged bafflement. "Lived here the past ten years," he said. "Grew up here, too. Never seen or heard of one." 

"Not for many many years," said Erandur. "Even when the temple was active, the priests would rarely be seen in Dawnstar. They preferred to live a solitary existence. The tower's been abandoned for decades now..."

"Ironic, isn't it?" the priest mused, almost sadly. "A ruin, within a ruin."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this place," said Marcus.

"And good for us that he does!" snapped Erdi. "Go on," she encouraged Erandur. "Tell them why this place is affecting people's sleep in Dawnstar."

"The Daedric Prince Vaermina is the prince responsible for nightmares," said Erandur. "These dreams are manifestations created by Vaermina. She has an awful hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves us only nightmares, which are a sign of this affliction not unlike a cough that marks a serious illness."

"So these aren't true visions?" asked Erdi. Well, that would certainly be a relief. "Of what's coming into being, I mean," she added. Jod was looking uneasy.

"That I could not venture to say," the priest told them. "One would hope not. One thing that I do know for certain is that these nightmares are Vaermina's very footprint as she drains that which is most precious to these people-- their memories."

"Huh," said Marcus. "I got plenty for her, then. She can have pretty much--"

Erdi shushed him. Sweet Dibella, she thought. Pick a better time.

The priest went on and on: these weren't normal dreams; they had to be stopped; the influence over these people might be permanent; they had to take action; these nightmares were dangerous, ugh he was repeating himself.

"We understand the need to stop this process," she told Erandur, a little irritated at all the preaching. It was a waste of their time. "And anyways, I've bargained to do it, so we don't need convincing. What can we expect inside?"

"Hey, I've got a question," interrupted Marcus. "So, uh, what does Vaermina do with all these memories?"

Erandur looked at him. "Who can say," he intoned gravely. "Perhaps she collects them for display like works of art in a nonsensical gallery--"

Erdi chortled. "Oh, like the Dragonborn Gallery?"

Marcus glared at both of them.

"She told me why you might want to come along," Erandur said to Marcus, not-quite apologetically. "I know someone else with similar interests--" Erandur was not paying attention to Erdi's gestures. "Have you ever met Silus Vesuius? He's an Imperial too, so I thought maybe you might know each other. He's setting up this museum dedicated to--"

"No!" said Marcus, tautly. "I have nothing in common with that guy." 

That tight control was almost worse than him losing control and yelling at them. Erdi kept an eye on Marcus, worried, but he hadn't moved to touch his machine. It was still slung on his back. And Jod seemed unconcerned.

 "Tell us what we might need to watch out for in here," urged Erdi, quickly.

"Years ago," began Erandur. "This place was raided by an Orc war party seeking revenge. They too had been plagued by nightmares, just like the people of Dawnstar."

"Were they successful?" asked Erdi.

Jod was muttering to himself: "Orcs? What fucking orcs?" There were no orc strongholds within a hundred miles of this place. Maybe two hundred.

"Be quiet," said Erdi. "I want to listen. Were the orcs successful?"

"No," said Erandur. "Not wholly. Knowing they could never defeat the orcs, the priests of Vaermina released what they call the Miasma, a gas which puts everyone to sleep." He gestured. "It's a gas, made by the priests for ritual purposes."

"So why are we here?" asked Marcus. "If everyone's asleep, shouldn't be dangerous. Go get the thing."

Erandur frowned at him.

"Something, I know not what, has caused this artifact of Vaermina's to become active again," he said. "And I have grave concerns that it is because the Miasma is starting to dissipate. And, once this place is unsealed, the rest of the gas will escape, and we can expect the orcs and priests to re-awaken, still in the midst of their little war."

"Decades, right?" said Marcus. "How come none of these guys are dead?"

"Vaermina's rituals can sometimes last for months or years," explained Erandur. "The gas is designed to slow down the aging process." He sighed. "The gas is dangerous. The longer an individual is exposed to it, the greater the chance that his or her mind can become damaged. Some will never awaken. Once we get inside, more will become clear."

"Hey," said Marcus. "Are the corridors pretty tight in there?"

Erandur looked at Marcus as if he were an idiot. They were standing in a cylindrical tower. The priest gazed meaningfully at the far wall, as if to say-- that's all the room you've got.

"I'd rather not have a poison bolt ricochet into my back, if it's all the same," answered Erdi.

"So it doesn't open up into a cavern, or-- What I thought," said Marcus, glumly. He unslotted the bolt and tucked it away in its quiver. Then he loosened a couple of pieces of the machine and tucked them away in his belt pouch. The metallic string was tucked away as well. "I'd rather not get a poison bolt in my back, either," he said, setting his mechanical crossbow down on a bench. Any thief would be out of luck. "What in Bal's realm is that elf doing? Let's get on with it."

"Be quiet," said Erdi. "I think he's praying."

Marcus groaned his total exasperation. "Five seconds ago this guy was telling us to hurry up, lives could be at stake, oooohhh the minds of these people--"

Erdi stepped on his foot. "Show a little respect," she suggested. "It's Lady Mara." At least, I hope it is, she thought. She was starting to wonder.

"Lady Mara can kiss--," grouched Marcus, but at least it was sufficiently under his breath. Erdi swatted him anyway.

"Weapons check," she said. Marcus and Jod and herself checked their blades. Erdi still had her iron dagger. Skald had offered her better-- but Erdi had declined. She had learned.

Every gift carries its price.

"Thank you for waiting," said Erandur, in a modest tone of voice which suggested that he had not heard Marcus, no not at all, even though they had been standing about twenty feet apart.

"So what now?" asked Erdi.

Marcus had already prowled around the circular room and had stared for some time at the carved stone bas-relief of the Daedric Prince Vaermina conducting her rites. Then he had picked up and sniffed at a book which was lying on the podium on the dais. He flipped it open, sniffed at it, grunted at it disapprovingly... and dropped it back on the shelf, carelessly. Not worth the taking.

This had also not endeared him to Erandur; it was evident that the book belonged to the priest.

"Give me just a moment and I'll have this open," said Erandur, with a certain set to his mouth.

The priest drew breath and began to cast a Flames spell at a very high rate of speed.

Marcus made a small noise of surprise. "What's he going to do next, hit it with a Frost spell to crack it?" he whispered. "Lisette tells a story like that--"

"Shh! Let him concentrate," said Erdi. She was watching closely, trying to figure it out herself. To her eye, the massive expenditure of magicka seemed like overkill, but perhaps it was making Erandur feel better...

Jod shifted from foot to foot, unimpressed. There was an unbroken bench. He went and sat on it.

"Hey!" said Marcus abruptly. "The stone-- it's..."

Erdi gasped, alarmed.

 The wall had turned translucent. It shimmered, evidently an illusion spell that was now broken. A cool and disturbingly-scented breeze curled into the ruined antechamber.

"Your pardon," said Erandur smoothly, in regards to their expressions of alarm. "Please, have no fear. Come this way."

The priest stepped right through the shroud of Vaermina's image with no qualms whatsoever, using the remnants of the fire spell in his palm to light his way.

Even Jod evinced a little surprise.

"Yeaaah," said Marcus. "That's no priest of Mara. You sure you still want to follow this guy?"

"I'm being paid to do this," said Erdi, evenly. "Isn't that what you say?" she challenged, before Marcus could answer her.

Jod sighed. "I hate this magicka stuff," he said.

 "Let's go on," Erdi said.


	10. Clemency

Erdi hesitated before stepping through the translucent stone wall-- but other than the cool and oddly-tainted breeze, she felt nothing out of the ordinary.

Marcus made a choking noise as he came through the portal, and the other two paused to look at him in alarm.

Marcus waved off any concern: "Magicka. Nasty-tasting. I hope that's it." 

Erandur was visible as a shadow just ahead of them. He was looking down into the well of the tower, from which an eerie light emitted.

"No wonder this place gives people nightmares," commented Jod.

None of them wanted to approach the rail.

"Over here," called Erandur. "You can see the artifact and the magickal field protecting it."

Erdi told herself to stop being foolish. She went over to take a look.

A couple of stories below, a transluscent red sphere pulsed, backlit by the cool blue glow of another carved relief of Vaermina, which sat atop a huge candlit plinth.

"Eeurrrugh. I don't want to get anywhere near that thing," murmured Marcus, right next to her. But then: "Huh! Do you think it looks kind of orcish?" 

Marcus began to go on, but Erandur had started speaking again. Erdi poked Marcus with her boot-toe: be quiet. She wanted to hear this.

"Behold the Skull of Corruption," Erandur intoned gravely. "The source of Dawnstar's woes. This is where the nightmares originate from. We must destroy it. Come."

Even in the dim, Erdi could see the brief flash as Marcus rolled his eyes skyward. He made a little gesture mocking Erandur's theatrics. Thankfully Erandur was moving off downslope and probably hadn't seen it.  
Erdi thumped Marcus on the arm: Knock it off. Let's go.

As they circled down and down, they got closer to the skull artifact.

Marcus made occasional low noises of distress.

The Skull of Corruption... it was like a vibration, just at the verge of her hearing, growing in intensity as they got nearer.

Even Jod was frowning and occasionally glancing around in annoyance, as if there were insects deviling him that he couldn't see.

"Stop acting like a lapdog in a thunderstorm," Erdi hissed. "Stop moaning."

"It hurts," Marcus whined. "Feels like I've got a wasp in my ear--"

They'd drawn Erandur's attention. He'd stopped.

"Be alert for trouble," he warned them, and drew his mace.

Jod drew his sword.

Marcus hesitated. He tilted his head, listening. "Don't know," he said. "I can't really tell what it is. That thing down there makes noise. Loud. And it smells horrible. It's kind of drowning everything else out."

Erdi strained her perceptions but she couldn't hear or smell a thing.

Erandur sent a few floating balls of magicka down the stairwell to light their path. Erdi would have found the light more reassuring had it not been for Erandur's posture-- he was holding his mace high and was walking on the balls of his feet, still poised for whatever trouble was coming.

Cautiously the four of them made their way down the steps.

No trouble came.

Soon they came to another magickal barrier, this one mostly-invisible but shimmering blue if approached.

Marcus, of course, immediately went up to poke at it. "Pretty solid," he reported. "I sure can't do anything about it."

"Dammit!" said Erandur. "The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released."

Marcus frowned. He went over to the balcony and prodded at its iron grid. He glanced up at the ceiling and the walls. "So, ah-- what's your explanation for how the gas stayed in there, then?" he wanted to know. "Because isn't this the barrier that you told us about? The one that if we unseal, will let this Miasma stuff out?"

"I... ah--" Erandur stammered, flustered.

"Because it sure wasn't that mage-gate back there that was doing it," commented Marcus. "You can barely smell anything in here at all."

"Whatever it is behind that barrier, it's certainly not affecting us," Erdi agreed.

"No," said Marcus. "You've got it wrong. See there?" He pointed at the open ironwork on the other side of the barrier. "That barrier's not blocking anything but our path to the Skull." He picked up a small chunk of mortar and tossed it across the tower. It easily passed under the railing and clinked against the floor.

"Your pardon," said Erandur, more smoothly. "I didn't mean to lead you astray. The Miasma itself is sealed behind a solid door, the one that leads to the library."

Jod was watching Erandur more closely. 

"You seem to know an awful lot about this place," Jod said, suspiciously. Erdi shook her head at Jod: Leave it.

Marcus stepped forward and took Erandur's mace from the priest's unresisting hand. 

"Let me try a few things," said Marcus. He swung the mace at the barrier, experimentally. When the mace bounced back at his face, he jumped back out of the way and dropped it, letting it crash onto the stone floor.

Erdi flinched. Erandur started to react and then, jaw clenched, visibly chose to regain his calm. Erdi watched curiously. Was that some kind of breathing exercise--

"Nothing doing," Marcus reported, after poking at the barrier with his dagger more judiciously. "Going to be difficult to breach." He shut his eyes, trying to perceive it better. A couple of minutes passed. "Very difficult," he said eventually.

"Impossible, actually," mused Erandur, frowning at his hopefully undamaged weapon, still lying on the ground. "I wonder...there may be a way to bypass the barrier, but I need to check the library and confirm it can be done." He sighed. "I suppose there's no point in concealing the truth-- my knowledge of this place comes from personal experience. I was a priest of Vaermina."

"I knew it!" Erdi said, furiously. "You're a liar! Why were you holding out on us?"

Jod had moved off a few dozen paces. Unlike Marcus, Jod still carried his bow.

"What would you have me say?" demanded Erandur. "Sorry for following the misguided teachings of a mad Divine? Sorry for stealing memories from children?" The priest drew breath to regain his serenity. "When the orcs raided the temple, I fled. I left my brothers and sisters behind to die. Please," he said. "I've spent the past few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from holy Mara. And, by her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs--"

"Really? We're going to have this conversation here? Now?!" Marcus had retrieved the mace and was swinging it idly, at his waist level. "Because I'd kind of like to finish up and get back to my nice warm cell." He tossed it to flip it hilt-out and offered it back to Erandur, who took it. "You can go back to preaching later," Marcus advised. "Not when we're standing in a crazy-dangerous place with that thing down there causing all kinds of problems that we've got to solve." 

He looked back at Jod. "Think we can get a fair amount of rope?"

Erdi took hold of the iron railing and joggled it. "It doesn't seem very secure," she reported. "Kind of rusty." Jod came over and tugged at it. Two of the posts came loose with a piece of the railing and he cursed, dropping it. They all watched it turn over and over again until it impacted against the stone floor in a plume of dust.

"Huh," said Marcus.

After a long awkward moment, the priest said, stiffly: "I still have my key to the library here. Whenever you're ready, let's move on."

Behind her back, Erdi made a little gesture to Jod: it's all right. Jod did not look happy at all.

 As soon as the priest put the key in the door's lock, Marcus vented a short exclamation. He grabbed Erdi by the arm and began to tow her away, up the stairs. Erdi glanced back. Streamers of something noxious were coming out from behind the door.

"Go up now," Erandur said. "All of you! All the way up the stairs. Go. Go!"

What?" she demanded of Marcus, because she was watching the priest get the heavy door open. Marcus continued to drag her away. Larger billows of gas wafted out of the open doorway, the scent of it suddenly choking-sweet, like rotten apples. 

With his sleeve over his face, the priest quickly joined them, breathing the fresher air deeply. He made them stand with their backs against the outer wall of the tower. The wisps of gas moved past them to drift upward, out through the openings at the top of the tower, like smoke up a chimney.

"Wait a moment," the priest advised. "It will clear." 

"Won't it knock us out, too?" asked Erdi.

"Door's acting like a flue," observed Marcus. This was true. The gas was drifting upwards away from them.

"I don't think it will," said Erandur, after consideration. "If it were going to, it should have caused me to collapse. Perhaps it is starting to decay on its own. Or perhaps Vaermina is causing it to do so via her staff? Who can say. In any event, these people will have been breathing it and suffering its cumulative effects for decades. We should have plenty of time to--"

Marcus was making another little gesture: Talk talk talk. This time Erdi didn't bother to nudge him. Maybe Erandur would see it and get the hint. Erandur didn't. He kept talking.

 They waited for an excruciatingly dull half-hour-- well, perhaps it was not dull for Erandur, he seemed pleased to have an audience-- and then ventured into the downward hall again.

 "What's that noise?" demanded Jod, sharply. "Show yourself!"

Below, they could hear the sounds of fighting, and then the discharge of a very large shock spell.

"Orcs," said Erandur, grimly. He ran down the stairs to aid his brothers.

Without hesitation, Marcus sprinted down the curving steps after him. 

Jod mutttered an imprecation and followed, leaving Erdi by herself.

"Don't you think--" she began, and then realized she was alone. She followed them.

As she came into the room, Erdi stumbled over a dead orc and had to scramble to regain her footing. Erandur was standing off to the side in shock, murmuring prayers or denials. There were at least two other dead orcs underfoot.  
Marcus was busy slashing at a purple-robed priest who kept trying and failing to fire off a spell.

Erdi ran up behind the Vaermina priest and stabbed the man up under the arm, once; twice. On the second blow the man coughed, and froth and blood spattered from his mouth. He collapsed.

"I tried," said Erandur, softly. "I know him, I tried to speak with him, he--" 

Jod raised his bow, pointing it at the opening to the room beyond.

"Orcs up ahead," he warned. "Hear 'em?"

There were bookcases screening their view into the other room. 

Jod began to move forward, cautiously.

A huge orc ran out from behind the bookcase, shield held high. 

"Stendarr!" swore Jod, in disgust, as the orc veered away from him.

 Erdi narrowly evaded the orc's shield bash and stuck him in the exposed meat of his left arm. The orc snarled at her and backed away, raising his sword. 

Jod shot again. "Back off!" he warned Erdi, and she did her best to comply, slipping around the bookshelf so that the orc couldn't keep slashing at her. 

There was clearly something wrong with the orc; he wasn't acting or fighting right, ignoring Jod's arrows, and not paying any heed to Marcus running up towards him with a mace. It didn't take the two of them long to make short work of the orc.

"Found this," reported Marcus, of the mace. He looked it over. "Steel, last century, poorly-maintained," he said, and grinned. "It'll do."

Erandur seemed uneasy. "Let's go back up the stairs for a moment and regroup," he suggested, a bit shakily.

Erdi followed him up, a bit worried.

Marcus and Jod followed, whispering to each other.

Erandur didn't stop until he exited the tower stair and was safely back in front of his altar to Mara. He sank down on the bench.

"I... never expected it," he said, still stunned. "After all these years, I thought I would be just numb to it, but--"

"You didn't plan this very well, did you?" asked Marcus, not unkindly. "No idea what you have down there, whether friend or foe-- were you just hoping that none of them were going to wake up?"

Erandur was looking at his boots.

"Or were you hoping that the jarl would send his guardsmen down to murder them for you?" questioned Erdi. "So you wouldn't get your own hands dirty?" She crossed her arms. "Even if some of your Vaermina people are in their right mind when they wake up from the effects of the gas, what do you think will happen when they find out you're coming down to destroy their Prince's artifact?" She scowled at Erandur. "Because that IS what you're planning on doing. Isn't it?"

Erandur lifted his head to address her suspicions: "Yes," he said, slowly. "I swear upon my hope of redemption and the grace of Mara: I go to destroy the Skull."

Jod, watching the priest closely, grunted and nodded. 

"So what's the plan?" Jod asked after a bit.

Erandur went back to regarding his boots.

Jod gave a we're-going-to-be-here-for-days sigh, and looked the rest of them over, wearily. Erdi could tell what he was thinking. Herself, the newly-minted adventurer; Marcus, who was probably all of twenty years old; and Erandur, who while he wasn't hopeless at actual combat, had no idea how to cope with this situation. "You--ah--want some advice?" suggested the housecarl.  
A few minutes later, they had a plan.

The four of them would proceed through the temple quietly and cautiously. Erandur would keep an illusion spell at the ready. He wasn't very good at illusion, but it might be enough in the moment, especially as the two warring groups were mostly focused on each other.

If they heard fighting, they would stay hidden until the noises of combat ceased. If they encountered an orc who didn't immediately attack, Jod would attempt to speak with him or her. If they found a Vaermina priest, Erandur would make the attempt. This was all in the hopes that they would run across somebody who was still in his or her right mind.

Because, Erdi had said-- it might be nice to figure out why the Skull of Corruption, after so many years dormant, had chosen this time to re-awaken. Skald would probably appreciate some answers. And, it might be needful to know the hows and whys, in case Erandur found himself unable to destroy the artifact.

Marcus-- after many probing questions that seemed to annoy the priest-- announced that he thought Erandur at least had a well-thought out strategy as to how to actually accomplish the destruction of the Skull. There was a potion or two, and a book of invocations to Mara which Erandur had to read, and some magickal spells...kind of complex, Erdi thought. 

Erandur himself seemed taken aback at Marcus' approval. So even Erandur thought his method was seat-of-the-pants, thought Erdi. That wasn't reassuring.

But-- "Seems pretty sound to me," was Marcus' final comment, and as he was the only one of the three of them who knew anything at all about magicka, that was that.

"Look at this place," said Erandur, mournfully. "This library used to be filled with arcane volumes-- now look at it. Everything's been burned. I hope the tome we are looking for is still intact."

"So what's it look like again?" Marcus called. He too was shaking his head over the near-total destruction, picking up burned volumes and checking them to see if there were unmarred pages. Most crumbled at his touch.

  "It's called The Dreamstride," Erandur answered him. 

"Yeah? What's it look like?" Marcus wanted to know. "Is it daedrically-infused?"

"I hope so," said Erandur. "That would render it impervious to fire. I fear we will not be able to recover it elsewise..." He looked up and down the shelves. "It's a large book, bearing the likeness of Vaermina on its cover..." Marcus had made an exasperated noise. 

"We've walked past several depictions of her," said the priest, annoyed. "Find something that looks like that." And, muttered under his breath: "Or if it isn't too much trouble-- try... I don't know... reading. Mara."

Marcus dusted the ashes from his hands and began to range back and forth across the library, eyes nearly closed. Abruptly he changed direction, ran up the entrance ramp, and vaulted over a set of burned tinders to a part of the balcony blocked off by collapsed stone.

"Found it," Marcus reported. "It's pretty powerful...radiating a lot of magicka. Is it safe to touch?"

"It's no more than a tome of alchemical recipes," Erandur called back. "Vaermina's magick may preserve it, but it was meant to be handled. It should be safe." 

Erdi could tell what the priest was thinking from the expression on his face: better you than me, kid. Erdi scowled at him. She ran up to the second level to see if Marcus was all right. Something seemed to be taking awhile.

She could see Marcus holding both of his hands over a large ornate book. He appeared to be mulling things over. He took a step closer to the book, again put his hands up... and waited.

"What?" Marcus called back, as Erandur complained. "Give me a minute." And, to Erdi: "You should see some of the stuff we've had to handle in these places. One time I got this golden claw thing that wouldn't let me put it back down..."

At least not until he'd found its magickal lock. Marcus made it sound like it was all a funny joke, but Erdi shivered.

"Maybe we should be more careful with these artifact things," she said. "Pick them up with a sack or something?"

Marcus scoffed and tossed his head, to let her know that it couldn't be that easy. He continued to do whatever-it-was that he'd been doing. Erdi recalled that Cyrelian had referred to it as "mere mage-sniffing"... of course, it was a talent that Cyrelian lacked. Maybe he'd been jealous.

After about a minute Marcus opened his eyes again: "Auryen says it's the act of taking a magickal item that binds it to you--so all that would happen is that you'd have a gold claw which was stuck to both you and the sack. If you were lucky, you might be able to pry the sack loose from between yourself and the artifact. If not-- " he shrugged. "You'd be stuck dragging around both."

He indicated the book: "It's seething with magicka. All kinds, bad and good. I really can't tell what it might do if I touch it. So--I'm just going to have to take the chance." Marcus reached out and took the book with both hands and carefully made his way down the piled-up rubble, jumping lightly down onto the ground.

Erdi followed after him, less gracefully. "Well?" she demanded, rubbing her stinging palms. She'd had to catch herself...

Marcus grinned at her. 

He made a big show of not being able to hand the book over to Erandur, but relented almost immediately.

"It's fine," he said to them. "It's just a book. Really."

"Don't be such an ass!"

Erandur was already fully engrossed in flipping through its pages, but she could see the quirk of his mouth. He agreed with her. When he saw that Erdi was standing on her tiptoes, he angled the book so she could see. 

To Erdi's disappointment, it appeared to be an ordinary book. Recipes, poems, and what looked like sermons. There weren't even any interesting diagrams.

"I don't see anything that looks helpful," she said. "Do you?"

"Let's take a look," Erandur said, and lifted the book to leaf more quickly through its pages. "Mara be praised! There's a way past this barrier after all-- that means we can get to the Inner Sanctum. It involves a liquid known as Vaermina's Torpor."

"Some kind of potion?" Marcus guessed.

"Yes," said Erandur, gravely. "The Torpor grants an ability which the priests of Vaermina term the Dreamstride-- using dreams to traverse a distance in the real world."

"Impossible," said Jod.

"Oh, I can assure you that it is indeed possible," said Erandur. "The Dreamstride is well-referenced in our lore..." Erandur explained further and at length. Oh gods, thought Erdi. Would the priest never stop talking? No hope for them that Marcus would do something rude-- he was listening intently.

"Through any kind of barrier, magickal or otherwise? That's amazing!" Marcus broke in, and explained. Such a thing would be of great use to him in his chosen profession-- why navigate through draugr-infested tombs, when one could waft right through into the treasure chambers? Not to mention other sort of walls that it might be convenient to get through, thought Erdi. 

From his dark look, Jod was thinking the same thing.

Marcus tugged his hair back into place and re-adjusted the fit of his boots. "Can it be used to get through, say, a wall, if you don't know where the walls actually are located? Because it's nearly impossible to scout some of these places, there are things there that can sense the living--"

"I think so," said Erandur. "Alchemy and the blessings of a Divine distilled down into an ingestible liquid-- it's unprecedented amongst--" On and on he went, greatly pleased to have finally found an avid listener. Even it if was Marcus.

Erandur scowled at Erdi; he didn't like his pedantry being interrupted.

"Yes," he said. "My suspicion is that it is stored in the rooms which are reserved for alchemical experiments. An important part of our work here for Vaermina--"

Gods.

Erdi looked around but Jod was of no use. He'd gone down to the other side of the room by the far door and was listening.

 Abruptly Jod half-whistled, calling them to attention: trouble.

Thank goodness.

Erandur swiftly tossed the Illusion spell, blurring out Jod and making him hard to see. Erandur bellowed at the approaching orc to get his attention, brandishing his mace.

The orc's sword was already dripping with blood, and he growled when he saw that Erandur would be a less vulnerable target than the still-mazed Vaermina cultists. Still, a mostly-unarmored priest would be no contest to an armored warrior. The orc could not see Jod, who slid right up behind him, sword unsheathed.

The orc fell.

All three of them all listened intently to the snapping crackle that was now coming from down the hall. Thuds. Screams. More sleepers had awakened.

"Fighting down that way," said Jod, noting the obvious. "A great deal of it. What all is down there?" 

"The alchemy rooms," answered Erandur. "And-- Destruction magick-- they'll burn everything that isn't already destroyed. Go!"

Even to Erdi's untutored gaze this next room positively radiated magicka; the residue of Destruction spells glowed so bright that it was difficult for her to see. She stepped on somebody dead's arm, but kept going. There was still more fighting up ahead.

Behind her, Marcus made a noise that made her immediately stop. She went back to him.

"Blinded," he said. "It's all too bright--" Erdi grabbed his sleeve and dragged him along.

As they got to the next doorway, Marcus began to wipe his face and streaming eyes. "I'm all right now," he said, taking deep breaths. "Where's--"

An orc war-cry echoed from somewhere around the corner.

Marcus ran towards it.

Erdi couldn't see Erandur-- what had happened to him? 

Jod managed to block a blow from a warhammer-- just barely-- just as Marcus ran up behind the orc with the mace he'd just looted.

Behind them a huge spray of shock magicka burst forth, temporarily blinding Erdi.

Another orc ran in, swinging an axe at Erdi. 

She stepped into the blow as she'd been taught-- and shrieked as she felt the axe-handle smash into her. Still, she tried to get her dagger under the orc's jaw. She missed, carving a great bloody gash along his neck. Her weapon nearly twisted out of her grip.

The orc swung his axe again and this time Erdi stumbled back, losing her footing on a loose stone. She fell, hard.

Suddenly blood fountained from the front of the orc, and his swing went wide and loose as he sighed his lungs empty and collapsed.

Marcus gave his off-hand sword a quick flick, trying to shed the blood which was dribbling from it and his glove. He continued to work it back and forth in the air, easing his wrist.

"Gods," he swore, and called out: "How many? How many of them are in here?" The orc nearest him twitched and he smashed downwards with his mace. The orc stopped moving.

A Vaermina priestess stumbled into the room behind Erdi, screamed in rage, and cast a lightning bolt at another orc--one none of them had seen yet--who was just now groggily trying to stand up.

Erdi heard Erandur cry out in pain.

She moved back and forth, trying to spot him, but couldn't.

Then she saw him crawling out from behind an outcropping, trying to stay beneath the coursing streams of magicka. 

Marcus and Jod were dealing with the orcs and priests back behind him. 

Erdi backed away from the Vaermina priest who was still casting; she was still wholly fixated on her target, and why not let her burn her magicka dry? She pulled Erandur up to his feet, bundled her hands in his robe, and ushered him by force back to an empty corner.

By the time she returned to where the fighting had been, the shock spell and the screaming had ceased, and Marcus and Jod were looking over the dead.

"He's hurt," Erdi reported. "It might be bad. Do we have anything?"

"Coming," said Marcus. "Has anyone got a healing potion or any salve? He's probably got burns."

"Stop that," Marcus told Erandur. "Stop stop stop." His voice was calm but he was tugging the priest's robes open swiftly to assess the damage. Erdi gasped at the angry red welts. Erandur was gasping in pain and Erdi could see an amber-green haze forming around his hands. Marcus swatted at him. "I could tell you horror stories about this mage guy I know who tried to heal himself from a bad injury-- I think he's probably still puking up horrible black stuff--here. Let me."

Erandur aborted his own Restoration spell, recovering its magicka.

The priest sighed as the blue-white glow of Marcus' spellwork spread through him and gave relief.

"Shock burns," said Marcus. "Pretty bad but no big, those're easily fixable. Nasty bruise here." He traced the line of it, over Erandur's shoulder. "Might as well get that, too. Jod?"

The Nord housecarl grumbled something. Marcus sealed up a couple of ugly cuts and addressed a mashed knuckle, while Erandur got his robes back together. "Doing pretty good," said Marcus, cheerfully.

Erdi looked her own arm over carefully, opening and closing her hand. "I think I'm okay," she announced. "I got hit but it was just with the haft, I think. There's no cuts." She felt along her arm. "It's just sort of numb. I'll be fine." 

Marcus came to look anyway. "Here," he said, and traced the line of it. "You'll still have a bruise," he said. "But it'll stop swelling and you'll still be able to use it if you need to. Try to take it easy with it. Anything else?"

"I fell on my butt pretty hard," said Erdi.

Jod made a choking noise.

"Yeaaah," Marcus sighed. "You can still walk, right? Let's go."

Marcus and Jod elected to scout ahead a ways, to make sure that they wouldn't be surprised again. 

Hearing the noises, Erdi suspected that what the two of them were actually doing was ensuring that none of the sleepers would ever be able to rise, orc or priest. It didn't matter. When they came back, Jod advised that none of the awakened had responded to any of their attempts to communicate with anything other than sheer blind rage.

"Worse than revenants," Marcus agreed. "Sometimes draugr or skeletons are still smart enough to run away. Not these people."

"Their minds are gone, I suspect," Erandur said, despondent. "I should have taken care of this. Years ago."

"It's hardly your fault," said Erdi.

Erandur just shook his head, and pulled his hood more closely around his face. He fussed with a cuff. "Let's look for the Torpor," he advised. "Mara hope there's yet a bottle unbroken."

"If we have the recipe book now," Erdi wondered-- "Why can't you just make some more of this stuff?"

"I am not a skilled alchemist," Erandur explained. "I know a little, but not what our masters knew. And there are certain rituals necessary to infuse the substance with the will of Vaermina. I can no longer perform those rituals-- and even if I still held that ability, I suspect that my memories would fail me at this remove."

She and Jod began to poke through the shelves and tables and cabinets as Marcus and Erandur spoke together quietly. Erandur did not seem quite as irritated with Marcus as he had earlier. 

Marcus really was very competent at this kind of thing, thought Erdi. Even if he did spend half his time clowning around.

"Is this it?" Erdi asked, holding up a mostly-empty bottle. Really it had been an excuse to find out what they were saying. It was obviously empty and it smelled just like an old healing potion. 

"No," said Erandur, abruptly. "Look for a very large bottle."

The two of them went back to their discussion.

"Hey," called Jod. "Come look here." 

Erdi went to join him. "Well," she said. "I sure hope that's it-- it's the only other bottle down here with something remaining in it. Will we be safe picking it up?" 

"Still sealed," said Jod. "See the wax, there?"

When she hesitated, Jod shrugged and picked it up. He handed it to her. As far as she could tell, It was just an ordinary bottle.

Erdi brought it back to Erandur. "Now what?" she asked. "How does it work?"

Erandur looked it over, tilting the bottle to examine the oily liquid inside. "I have yet to see it function in person," he admitted. "The recipe warned that a small amount will not trigger the full effect," Erandur noted. "A couple of large mouthfuls is what is suggested. But a taste may give us some clue as to how it effectuates its purpose..."

"Go for it," said Marcus. "Seems to be plenty of it left. Let's give it a try." 

"I am not certain as to how large a dose the Torpor requires," warned Erandur. "For now, drops only." Cautiously, the former priest of Vaermina broke the seal on the bottle. Nothing happened. He sniffed at it. "Smells like snowberries and peppermint," he said. "Something bitter as well, that I cannot identify. Is your dagger clean?"

Erandur took the offered weapon and very, very carefully, tilted the bottle to put a single drop of the Torpor onto the tip of the blade. Nothing happened. Erdi, just as gingerly, took the bottle from him, holding it cautiously in two hands. Erandur touched the droplet with his finger and sniffed at it, displaying no reaction. He tasted it.

"Odd," Erandur said. "The book says that Vaermina's presence should be felt or heard immediately, with the merest trace of this substance, but I perceive nothing." 

Erandur didn't want to let Erdi taste it, but she insisted. Erandur held the blade so she could touch her tongue-tip to it. She could taste the iron of the blade and not much else. "I don't hear anything," she reported. "Or see anything, whatever. Do you have to be a mage for this to work?"

Erandur had gone back to the Dreamstride book and was reading more. "No," he said. "Looks like that's not even mentioned as a consideration. Many of our dedicates were Dunmer or Altmer-- and therefore most of them would have some sort of magickal ability--but not all."

Jod took the bottle from Erdi and examined it. "This looks like Nord work," he said, "Decoration, I mean. Not the glasswork. Riften, maybe?" Marcus glanced it over and made a noise of agreement. Jod took the dagger from Erdi and tasted the trace of red substance which remained. "Supposed to do what?" Jod asked.

Marcus took his glove off and put his thumb over the bottle opening, sealing it. He tilted it upright to wet the ball of his thumb with the substance. 

"Careful!" snapped Erdi. What if he spilled it?

Marcus re-righted the bottle, grinned at them, and licked his thumb. His face paled immediately to ash. Erdi grabbed for the bottle just in time, and took it away. Jod grabbed his arm and held him up. Marcus wavered, but was able to stay on his feet.

"There some ability of Daedric Princes that gives people migraines?" Marcus said in a near whisper, his eyes now tightly shut. "Or is it just that they never shut up?" He clutched his head. "Shut up. SHUT UP!" He blundered away a few steps and whimpered.

"Are you all right?" Erdi demanded, worried.

"Sorry," Marcus apologized. "Not going to be good company." His hands were clapped over his ears. Unsteadily he made his way off towards a dim corner. "Gods," he husked. "Not another one."

Jod and Erandur were awaiting an explanation. "Long story," said Erdi. "It has to do with the madgod. Really. He isn't crazy." 

The other two regarded her in silence. 

Erandur returned his attention to the book.

  "Going back to the chapter preface," said Erandur, at length. "Maybe this entire class of elixirs is described in more detail." 

Nearly half an hour passed as Erandur went slowly through each page of the Dreamstride, muttering to himself.

Marcus, Erdi could see, had fallen asleep leaning against the corner, head propped against the wall. She was tired. Her feet hurt. And her back. She wanted to sit down too, but her rear end hurt too, from where she had fallen. She suspected it would be less uncomfortable to remain standing. So she did.

"Ahh," said Erandur finally. "I see where there may be an issue. In several places, the introductory text states that the imbiber must be susceptible to the influences of Vaermina."

"Huh," said Erdi. "I'm sworn to the service of Dibella. Do you think that might be the problem? After I finished my training in the Markarth sanctuary, I chose against taking the final vows--that wasn't for me--but I mean technically I'm still a postulant. I never actually withdrew. They don't have any Dibella priestesses in Solitude, so I've helped Silana lead the rites every Loredas..." she trailed off.

Jod was looking thoughtful. "Maybe you all had a misspent youth," he said. "But I didn't. Stendarr. The jarl took me up out of the chapter-house-- we were often sent out as proteges to the men-at-arms belonging to the thanes and jarls--and when Jarl Skald's latest housecarl got hurt, he sent for one of us. I was the novice-master at the time and I'd had about enough of that duty when the call came, so I went. I was allowed to withdraw from the Order itself to take my oath to him, but..." He shrugged. "I'm still under my vows."

"And as a sworn priest of Mara, it appears that the elixir won't work for me," said Erandur. "Perhaps the Torpor will only work for priests of Vaermina, or--" he gazed at Marcus, who was evidently half-asleep. "Perhaps the unaffiliated," he added.

"This stuff sounds dangerous," said Erdi. "How can you be sure of what it does?"

"I will not lie to you," said Erandur. "There is some risk involved. The last time the Torpor was imbibed could have been decades-- even centuries-- ago. But I swear upon Lady Mara that I will do everything within my power to prevent any harm from befalling your friend."

"Forget it," said Erdi. "What if it kills him?"

Erandur spread his hands. "This is the exact same drink that the priests of Vaermina consume in their rituals," he pointed out. "The only real question in my mind is whether this Torpor can actually grant him the Dreamstride-- otherwise, given the ingredients, the worst that I believe that could happen is a bad aftertaste." Erandur seemed rather anxious that Erdi believe that. Hmpf. 

"Go get him," Jod said. "I want to get this over with."

Erdi went to grab Marcus and drag him back into their company. "Pay attention," she admonished. 

"What's this Dreamstride feel like?" Marcus wanted to know. He was still rubbing his face and yawning. "Kind of like being drunk?" he asked, groggily. "Or 's more like skooma. You know?" He waved his arms about as if he were a bird, flying. Clearly he had recovered, at least a little.

"You'll be viewing the long-past memory of another through your own consciousness," said Erandur, mouth pursed. "It will feel as if you are standing in your own body, but you are not. You are looking through the eyes of another, and you will have only a limited capacity to act. It should be sufficient, however, to allow you to go up the stairs and release the barrier."

"Huh. Won't these people notice anything odd?" Marcus asked. "What happens then?"

"No. Those around you should perceive you as normal. You may find that the words you utter may not be your own. Some of your actions may not be your own. It is like being in a dream-- and there is some debate as to whether it really is a dream, or just another example of the machinations of Vaermina."

"Huh." Marcus yawned again. "Sounds like a rough night down at the Flagon," he said. He found his gloves in his pouch and tugged them back on. "I'll give it a try."

"When you're on the skooma," said Erdi. "Believe me, everyone around you notices that there's something not normal."

"So this stuff's better," said Marcus, flippantly, and nudged her. "Hey, I'll split it with you. Probably no worse'n a batch from a bad cook."

He wasn't taking this at all seriously. 

So Erdi had to explain. 

And then, of course, Erandur had to interrupt, at extreme length: "Vaermina resides in a strange and nightmarish land where reality shifts upon itself in seemingly impossible ways. From her citadel at the center, she reaches forth to collect memories, leaving nothing in return apart from visions of horror and despair. "

"Um--" interrupted Erdi. Wow, you're not selling this well, she thought.

"Great," said Marcus, all levity suddenly gone. "That's where you want me to go?" he demanded. "Quagmire?"

"No, no, no," Erandur hastened to say. "Not precisely, the Dreamstride is powered by Vaermina's power, which is merely rooted in Quagmire, which acts as a--"

Marcus continued to scowl at him: "Let me get this straight. You want me to drink this crap."

"The Torpor, yes," sighed Erandur.

"And put myself under the influence of Vaermina, true?" Marcus folded his arms.

"Yes, my son, it is an integral part of submitting to the Dreamstride itself, due to the need for the divine energy to infuse--"

"So that I can take a little magickal shortcut through Vaermina's hellscape and get your door open?" Marcus was frowning. "Drink this crap and go to Quagmire, right? One of the most dangerous daedric realms? Isn't that what you just said?"

"Ehm, not precisely, the Dreamstride is--" Erandur temporized.

"Tapping into the power of Vaermina, and taking a quick trip to Quagmire to walk through someone's memory, so that I can deactivate this barrier. So that you can destroy Vaermina's artifact. Yes?" 

Erandur gave a sheepish half-shrug.

Marcus was considering: "So what happens if, say... Vaermina's listening like... right this very moment listening... and decides that she really doesn't want to play along?" His face tightened further, into something that looked like a sustained wince.

"It is... a risk," Erandur conceded. "But I do not believe it is a very great risk. When you are in the state known as the Dreamstride, you will be experiencing the memory of another as though it is your own. As you traverse distances in the dream, you will be traversing distances in the real world, though to our eyes you will appear to have vanished. In most cases, the subject appears back in our world without harm."

Most cases?

Marcus made an aggrieved noise. He'd heard it too.

Marcus drew his shortsword and looked it over, bent over to wipe it on a corpse's robe, tested its blade and re-sheathed it. "What happens if I get this barrier down, and you go to destroy this artifact-- only it turns out I'm still under the influence of this Torpor? What happens then?"

Erandur hastened to say something encouraging, but then fell short. He looked at Jod. Jod looked back at them, blandly. Nothing good, was Erdi's conclusion.

"Nice," said Marcus, sourly to him and to Jod. "This why you wanted the condemned man along?"

"That was me," said Erdi, quickly. "I wanted you along. I had no idea about any of this! If he would have said something beforehand-- oh, by the way, we need someone not already sworn to one of the Divines!-- I'm sure I could have gotten some other people to come with us."

Erandur started to say something, but Jod cleared his throat. The priest subsided.

Marcus continued to be upset.

"You know what?" Erdi challenged Marcus. "Say the word. Say it! I'll go back down to Dawnstar and petition the jarl to find us a volunteer. Everybody wants to be done with these nightmares. I'm sure he could find somebody--" She folded her arms. "Or I could do it. Use the Torpor myself. I just thought of a way."

"Stop,"said Marcus to her. And, to the others: "So what do I get out of this deal?"

Jod cleared his throat: "Clemency," he said. "On my word. It'll earn you clemency, if you do your part to help get these nightmares stopped. Otherwise you face the jarl's full punishment for the murder." He held up a hand to forestall Erdi's protest: "Or whatever it is they'll end up calling that killing. At the very least it's a grievous breach of the peace." 

"Thaena's looking into dealing with the wergeld as well," Erdi said to Marcus, quickly. "She hasn't forgotten."

Marcus was silent. Thinking it over.

Erdi drew Marcus aside. "Look," she said, more gently. "There's no reason you need to be the one to do this. I'll withdraw from my Oath right here and use the Torpor. Lady Dibella will understand. And at least then there wouldn't be any more wasted time. Erandur says these nightmares are dangerous-- they can kill people or completely destroy their minds. I don't want to wait another night."

"Oh no," Marcus said. "You're not even going to attempt it."

"Why not?" challenged Erdi. "I'm just as capable as you--"

 Marcus cut her off: "Part of being an adventurer is recognizing when you're out of your depth, Erdi," he said. "You almost just got yourself killed today, about six different times. And since this next part is going to involve alchemy and magicka and walking through time by going into a daedric realm-- you sure you want to go through all of that again?"

"Yes," said Erdi, raising her chin. "I do. It's hardly fair if you're the one taking all of the risks. This is my job. I'm the one who contracted to take it. I'm the one who should be going forward with this."

Marcus sighed and looked to Jod for assistance. The Nord housecarl said: "Not my call."

Erandur stood by, silently. 

Erdi willed for Erandur to say something-- but he did not.

"Look," Marcus said, finally. "You can't drink this potion and submit to Vaermina's influence. You're sworn to Dibella and I'm not about to be the one to make you give that up. Who knows if renouncing her would even work? I'm sure Erandur would want to-- but..." The priest's shoulders had slumped. "Mara's oath binds him," said Marcus. "Also it's probably protecting him against Vaermina's influence, right?" He looked around. "And I really doubt Jod--"

Jod made a noise of derision: "You gotta be kidding." 

"So," said Marcus, seriously. Thoughtfully. "We're down to me. I'm the one we know can do this thing and walk through time to unseal that doorway." He looked at Erdi: "I'd rather do it than stay here worrying about what happened to you."  
"Worry about me?!" Now she was incensed. "I can handle myself! Why are you shuffling me off to wait like I'm some servant-girl who isn't needed? I'm going with you," Erdi declared.

"Not possible," interjected Erandur. "There is only enough for one dose."

"No," said Marcus calmly. "I'm not your servant either. If you don't want to take my advice and let me take care of this, that's your call-- I won't stop you. But I'm not going to follow you." He observed Erdi's response, disapprovingly: "Bluster around all you want. I'm not going through what I went through with Alfgar. Never again. If I know something isn't right-- I'm not going to lend myself to it. You will let me do this. Alone. Or I'm leaving."

Jod shifted about. 

"I'd be happy to go back to jail," announced Marcus, and his keeper relaxed.

"You think that something is going to go wrong," said Erdi to Marcus, after a few seconds. "With this." He started to answer but Erandur interrupted her his soothing priestly voice: 

"Everyone: there is nothing to fear." The priest of Mara addressed Marcus: "I will watch over you as you slumber to ensure your safety. If I deduce anything is amiss, I will use my arts to bring you back."

"What if you can't tell that anything's gone bad?" Marcus wanted to know. "Then what? Am I stuck in there forever?"

"I am uncertain what will end your Dreamstride," Erandur admitted. "Perhaps when Vaermina's curious appetite has been filled."

"What's she after, again? Appetite for--" 

"Memories," said Erandur, grimly.

"That it?" Marcus wanted to know. "Nothing else? Nothing like, say, my life... or my sanity... or I dunno. My hair?" 

Erandur nodded. "Memories are Vaermina's sole currency."

Marcus inclined his head at Erdi. They went aside.

Marcus leaned closer to her: "You know what? For me, that may not be so bad," Marcus murmured. "Pretty much all been..." he sighed. "Except the past couple of years. Let me do this. Let me earn my way free. There's just one thing I don't want to forget-- sooo... if you could remember it for me?"

He lowered his voice, still further, and whispered to Erdi.

And Erdi was immediately furious with herself, because she started crying.

"Go on up," said Marcus, ignoring her questions. He spoke more quietly: "Let me handle this from here. Jod can wait with you. Erandur-- he says he's going to stay here and keep an eye on me, but forget about that. Make him go with you up top. If anything goes wrong, he's the only one who knows what's going on here, so make sure he gets out of the tower. Jarl Skald will need him."

"Guard Erandur," said Erdi. "Got it." She gave a rueful little laugh. "Not very glamorous, is it."

"I know it isn't," said Marcus. "But I will appreciate knowing that it's been taken care of. Okay? Go on up with Jod, I don't want you watching this next bit if it goes wrong." 

She stared at him.

Marcus stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Go," he said, more softly.

Erdi slowed as soon as she was concealed behind the row of broken bookcases, straining to listen:

"Are you certain that this is the path you wish to choose?" asked Erandur, of Marcus.

"You think I want to volunteer to give myself up to Vaermina?" Marcus said. "Really I don't. But... At least it'll be something useful, won't it? Even if all that you find out is that the Torpor doesn't work. I guess if it doesn't work-- find a few more Destruction mages?" He laughed. "Better than what Skald has in store for me, I'm sure. At least if you're wrong, it'll be quick." He hesitated: "Right?"

Erdi could not hear Erandur's murmured response. 

Jod was waiting for her. 

Slowly she began to pick her way across the rubble, burned books, and the freshly dead.

"So! This is your doing, is it?" Erdi yelped and clutched at her ears, not that it made any difference to the furious Daedric Prince shouting at her. "Another one of your little impulses that just so happens to deprive me of my entertainment--"

Oh gods. 

"I um..." mumbled Erdi, trying not to draw Jod's attention. "I'm sorry. I had no idea that potion would have such an effect..."

"We were having such a nice conversation, too!" Lord Sheogorath sniffed.

"Are you, uh, still in his head at all?" Erdi wanted to know. "As well as mine?"

"What? Yes. Of course. You think that dreamer wench can shove me out? No. Just isn't listening to me, because she won't shut up. KILLL THEMMM. THEY LIE... THE PRIEST IS LYING. KILLLL HIMMM.... Aaagh. Driving me... well. So I hopped over."

"Sweet Dibella, that IS annoying," agreed Erdi. 

Now Jod WAS looking at her funny.

"Sooo.... could you tell me what's happening?" she asked, under her breath. "With this Dreamstride thing? I tried to tell them it was a bad idea for me to come up here and that I should keep watch, but--"

"Well, let me see," said Sheogorath. "Is it a favor you're wanting of me, then?"

"No!" said Erdi immediately. Flustered, she tried to sound as if it were of no importance: "I mean, if it's too much trouble for you, don't worry about it."

"You know, not toooo much trouble-- but I'd say it'd be terribly boring," said the Daedric Prince. "Let me see, what are we doing now? Drinking off the potion and making such a face. Pfft. What a baby-- it wasn't half-bad. I'd have put it with a bite of taffy-treat just to soak up the bitterness, but you know--"

"We doing something?" the mad god wanted to know. "Or were we just going to stand around looking at each other? Are we playing a game? I spy with my little eye... An apostate Dunmer! Ooh, and doesn't he look serious, looking off into the gloom like that? Your turn."

"For goodness sake, will you pipe down?" said Erdi. "I'm trying to listen for trouble. Vaermina's Torpor should be taking effect any moment--"

Jod said something.

"Shut up," commanded Erdi. "I'm talking to a god."

Jod said something else but it really wasn't very important.

Erandur wouldn't come with her. "What are you doing?!" he said. "I must stay to monitor the condition of--" 

Erdi's hand grabbed Erandur's sleeve, and she started to tow him away. Jod grabbed his other arm and together they began to force the priest to turn around and walk toward the exit.

"You're the only one who knows what's going on in this place," said Erdi. "So if something happens, you need to get to the jarl and--"

 Just then Sheogorath emitted a horrific shriek.

And then: "I hate this place," he muttered. "Ugh. Always makes me motion-sick. Here. You look."

Erdi swallowed. "Oh sweet lady," she said, wholly disoriented. The world swayed and settled. She sank to her knees, clutching at the wall for support. And then...

"Huh," she said. "Is this what the tower looked like a long time ago, when it was a temple? There's less moss." She sniffed. "Privies need seen to," she said. "And there's mold in the laundry. Who's maintaining this place?"

The tall Dunmer spoke: "The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren."

"We must hold," said Brother Veren. He was about to break into tears. "We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands."

"But... no more than a handful of us remain," said the Dunmer.

"We have no choice," said Veren. "The Miasma must be released."

"The Miasma?!..."

"We have no alternative," said Brother Veren, sadly. "It's the will of Vaermina. And what about you, Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?"

And Erdi was there; she could feel herself/Marcus/Brother Casimir sigh: "I've made my peace. I'm ready."

"Then it's decided," said Veren, sharply. "Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you. Brother Thorek, we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives, if necessary."

"Agreed," said the Dunmer who'd first spoken. "To the death."

"Let it be done!" declared Veren. "Farewell, my brothers."

The two turned to each other and started to speak; but Erdi felt Marcus/Brother Casimir turn suddenly, and begin to run.

She was at least partially in her own body now; she could feel herself stumbling as Jod tried to lead her and Erandur up the stairs.

"Nope! Still making me sick," said the mad god, and she popped back into the other awareness.

The first few rooms were empty; Marcus/Erdi/Brother Casimir streaked through a robing chamber; a meeting hall carved with more stone reliefs of Vaermina...

Past a very puzzled initiate who was apparently eating a late breakfast. 

"Slept in," he said, puzzled. "What's going on? What's all that yelling?"

But Marcus/Erdi/Brother Casimir were already out the other side of the kitchen door, heading for the refectory.

Inside the Vaermina priests battled with the orcs--

A Destruction mage's spells faltered, and he took a mace-blow and crumpled to the ground. 

The orc bellowed triumph and went running towards another one of the priests.

There was nothing that could be done. 

Marcus/Erdi/Brother Casimir jumped over a pile of bodies and kept going.

"Well," said Sheogorath. "I don't know what you think. I think it's getting kind of dull--" Another priest screamed and fell. "No contest, really."

"So try giving these priests a chance!" cried Erdi.

"Oh, sure, why not?" agreed the mad god, indulgently. "Let me see..."

As they crossed into the first dormitory, they saw an orc warrior being held at bay by two initiates, using no more than their bare fists.

The orc backed up, looking puzzled.

"Heheh. Shall we take a closer look, my dear?"

"Oh gods," sobbed Erdi, profoundly dizzy again.

The orc looked completely baffled-- it was as if he'd completely forgotten that he held a sword.

One of the priests punched him in the flank, and he raised his shield.

"I think we're supposed to be doing something else, aren't we?" Erdi reminded the Daedric Prince.

"Hm? Oh, you're right. This is taking too long. Shock spells?" Sheogorath groaned. "Will this guy never die? Come on! Hit him again!"

"I think you're asking a lot of priests," advised Erdi. "Maybe you should--"

Marcus/Brother Casimir chose to turn and run up a long stairwell, but Erdi found herself staying put, at the whim of the god.

"I've got it," called Sheogorah happily. The orc facing the priest suddenly dropped to one-third size and suddenly couldn't remove its hands from its warhammer. Warhammer? Didn't it have a sword?

The Vaermina priest yelled in triumph, thanking his god. He punched the orc in the jaw and delivered a vicious shin-kick. The orc howled in pain and fell. The priest grabbed the fallen warhammer and...

 Erdi's awareness snapped back into the Dunmer body, and Marcus/Erdi/Brother Casimir took the last few stairs in a rush.

Then they took the long run up the ramp spiraling upwards around the tower, until...

They headed toward the entrance-hall, towards a large pull-chain resting near another bas-relief; there was a sign next to it in Dunmeris; Erdi strained to read it but could not.

"What's that say?" she demanded.

Sheogorath laughed. "Pull in case of orcs?" he hazarded. "Oh! I know. Do not touch this pull-chain!!"

Brother Casimir's hand reached toward the pull-chain, hesitated, and...

"Ow!" said Erdi. "OW ow ow. That really hurt!" She was in her own body again, rubbing the place where her toe had been stubbed, at least a dozen times.

"No picnic for me either," said the Daedic Prince. "Hm. Hello? Helllloooo?" He sighed. "I don't like this," he said to Erdi. "How much do you want to bet that the damned substance's permanent? That's a fine mess. I bet your friend likes me as a ride-along a lot more than the Screecher."

"Screecher?" said Erdi, blankly, and immediately covered herself: "I mean, I dunno," said Erdi. "So what now? We're stuck here, and..." she pressed against the barrier. "Marcus is stuck back there."

"Soul gem!" called Erandur, waving frantically. He pointed at the gem-sconce near the invisible barrier and waved frantically at Marcus.

Marcus seemed to be in a daze and unable to hear them though the barrier, but eventually he got the point, blundered over, and grabbed the gem.

The barrier shuddered and fell.

The way to Vaermina's terrifying artifact was now clear.

"You all right?" called Jod.

Marcus nodded. He was still on his knees, where he had fallen. Slowly, he got to his feet. "Yeah. Got some stuff going on." He was rubbing his head with his free hand. "Be all right though. I think."

He examined the soul gem and stuffed it into his baldric pouch.

"Better get this finished, then," said Erdi.

Inside her head, the madgod heaved a great sigh and grumbled something.

"That's quite enough," said Erdi, severely. "We can all have jam sandwiches later. Fine. Cheese." 

Jod looked at her, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He shook his head.

Before he could say anything, Erandur came running up--


	11. Vestige

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"Mara be praised!" Erandur cried. "You vanished after drinking the Torpor and materialized on the other side," enthused the priest, oblivious. "I've never seen anything quite like it! How was it?" 

"Remarkable," Marcus grated. "As if I were really there."

"How I envy you! I can only imagine the excitement of seeing history through the eyes of another!" 

Erdi thought Erandur was rather overdoing it.

Even Jod was getting suspicious. Frowning.

"Yeah. About that," said Marcus, venomously, still rubbing his forehead. "Seems to me you owe me about fifty septims, Casimir--" Erdi elbowed Marcus in the side, hard, to get him to shut up.

"Sadly, I am resigned to just reading of its wonders through my research of the Skull," Erandur went on, his voice rising to try to cover Marcus'--

"--Cause that's what I generally charge people who want me to get inside 'em--" 

Erdi resorted to putting her hand over Marcus' mouth. 

"Get rid of that damned artifact, first," she advised. "Complain later." 

Marcus huffed. 

Erdi retrieved her hand and wiped it off on her scarf. 

As soon as she let go of him, Marcus ducked away from her and started to go back down the long downward spiral towards the central room and the dais which held Vaermina's Skull of Corruption.

Erandur hopped a few awkward steps and then abandoned all dignity, bolting down the ramp in his rush to be first to the artifact.

Erdi and Jod looked at each other for a second-- and then pelted after them. 

Erdi heard Marcus howl in agony, and ran faster.

By the time she got to him, he was kneeling on the ground with both hands clapped over his ears, screaming obscenities. The walls started to tremble just a bit-- was that his dragon-voice? He moved his hands to physically clamp his own jaw shut and continued rocking, banging his head against the stone wall.

Erdi was immediately terrified for him. Marcus didn't use language like that; he almost never-- there was no time. 

Erandur was nearly at the relic-room itself.

Jod stopped, to deal with Marcus.

Erdi slipped around Jod to follow Erandur instead, and got down to the final room just in time to see two figures pop into existence right in front the room with the Skull of Corruption.

Erandur cried out in shock.

He began to back up slowly, still holding his mace.  


"Veren--" he gasped. "Thorek!... You're alive!"

"No thanks to you," snarled the thing that looked just like a Vaermina priest.

"I..." Erdi wanted to grab her companion and haul him back. Was he a fool? Couldn't he see what those things were? They certainly weren't people anymore...they were just vestiges. Erandur! She couldn't get his attention.

"I no longer use that name. I'm Erandur, Priest of Mara."

"You're a traitor, Casimir. You left us to die and ran before the Miasma took you."

"No! I...I was scared. I wasn't ready to sleep."

"Enough of your lies!" cried Veren. "I can't allow you to destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara."

Erandur surprised her:

"Then you leave me no choice!" 

Erandur came forward, swinging his mace. Shock spells burst in all directions.

Erdi knew how to handle mages. Or vestiges operating bodies that looked like and behaved like mages, whatever these things were called. Some kind of revenant, she knew.

She ran up and slashed the back of the thing that Erandur called Veren's hand, severing tendons. Blood spattered from his left hand and his spell faltered on that side...continuing to spew, weakened, from his right.

She couldn't get at Veren's right side, but she could slash at him again, and she did...

... And when he rounded on her, Erdi got a good stab in, under his armpit, and he cried out, falling back to draw his sword.

Erdi took the blow across her left arm and she cried out as it went numb and cold with the shock. There was blood everywhere now, all over her front.  


Veren swung at her again and she leapt backwards with more force than expected. Absent her will, her dagger swung upwards just in time to turn the other's blade.

"A little more care, m'dear, if you will," purred Sheogorath, lazily. And then: "Yes! Stick him again!"

Something seemed wrong with that revenant Vaermina priest now, though, he was moving too slowly.

So was Erdi.

Jod ran up behind her and slammed the flat of his waraxe down onto the cultist's head.

More shock magicka flared up, but it was so weak it sputtered along the walls and floor and went out.

Erdi stood panting. 

She came forward to prod the Vaermina priest with her dagger, but saw that he was rather thoroughly dead. There were arrows in him that she didn't remember him taking, and---

All of a sudden she felt very dizzy and sat down. 

Erandur was saying something to her but she couldn't hear him, it was too far away. Then a wave of blue-white flooded through her; she was floating, it was glorious...

And it faded.

She was sitting on the ground, Marcus's arm around her back. He was sitting half-behind her, holding her upright. She fumbled loose the buckles of her bracer and looked at it where it had split; but the deep gash in her arm was already no more than a dark-pink divot, fading as she watched.

"I can't hear you over this shouting," Marcus advised her, in a too-loud voice. "You all right?"

Erdi nodded and patted him on the back. He got up and helped her stand.

"Wow," she said. "That is a lot of blood." Her jerkin was sodden with it, to the point where she futilely tried to brush some of the wet from her. "Did it all come from that guy?"

Wordlessly, Jod shook his head. He was still staring at her and Marcus. His face had gone pale.

They stepped into the central room to face the Skull.

Of course Erandur wanted to stop and give them another little speech.

So they waited to hear it.

"Weapons," Marcus said to Erdi, too quietly this time. He was on Jod's other side and she couldn't quite--

"Pardon?" she asked. "I didn't hear what you--"

Marcus had started shifting to foot to foot. Now he began to walk in circles, head turned to one side, hands locked onto his own arms. "Weapons weapons weapons--"

His voice rose to a shriek-- "Erdi! Get my--- Get them away from me!"

Erdi heard the desperation in Marcus' voice and immediately ran toward him.

Jod held Marcus by the scruff of his neck and his right wrist; he'd already got rid of the mace Marcus had been holding. Erdi managed to wriggle in and grab the still-sheathed sword from its scabbard. She threw Marcus' sword far away, off into the shadows.

"Fuck! FUCK YOU BITCH you can have them all... all of them...CHOKE ON IT BITCH--" and fell silent again. "Get them away. Get them away," he whispered.

She patted his limbs down, frantically. Did Marcus still keep a knife in his boot? She couldn't find one.

"That it?" she asked Jod, who was struggling, hands full; Marcus was still trying to pull away from him.

"Think so," said Jod. He frog-marched Marcus away and pushed him up against the wall to hold him still, Marcus still fighting and cursing and snarling and sobbing. 

"Shut up," said Erdi to Sheogorath, furious. "Stop laughing. It isn't funny!"

"No?" said Sheogorath. "Impressive. Look at him go! Should I go in and make him eat his own fingers next? I know! I'll..."

"Stop doing this to him!" she screamed. 

Jod, still holding Marcus down, flinched at her outburst and Marcus nearly got loose. Swearing, Jod fought him back to the wall.

"Oh. Hm. Haha! Well. As to that-- I'm not presently doing a thing! You'll have to talk to the Screecher about that--" the madgod laughed, a little ruefully. "She's doing a little walk down memory lane-- ooh. I don't think she likes what she sees. Certainly it was quite a bit more than she expected!"

"Go ahead and let Vaermina do whatever she wants to him, then," said Erd, disgusted. "I guess you don't have the ability to do anything much about her, anyways."

Sheogorath chortled as if to say: Nice try, mortal.

 Marcus had stilled; at this he started fighting with Jod again, even more violently throwing himself back and forth against the wall, heedless of scrapes and bruises; this time when Marcus was flung up against the wall, Erdi heard a loud -crack!- and a shrill scream... and Marcus went totally, unnervingly silent. He still kept fighting.

"Get him to calm down!" Jod cried out. Marcus shifted again and Jod pressed him back to the ground. "I think I'm gonna break his neck by mistake if he doesn't--" an elbow found him and he had to use a knee to pin Marcus down. "--Or maybe on purpose," he snarled. "Help!"

Erandur was standing on the steps watching them, doing nothing at all.

"Give us another sermon, why don't you," said Erdi to him, poisonously.

"Hm?" Sheogorath abruptly took an interest again. Erdi felt Sheogorath's attention shift away from herself; he was no longer talking to her. "Say that again?" the Daedric lord said.

 "I'll do it," Marcus promised suddenly, in a weak voice. He'd abruptly stopped fighting.

Erdi could still hear the Daedric Prince of Madness, though more faintly now. "Will you then? Can I make a request, or is that a bit too too--" Lord Sheogorath sighed. "Fine, I'll just ask. More in the style of the first few dozen, not like that one third from last? Not to be critical but I didn't really like that one as much as-- You know. Stylistic differences."

"Yeah," said Marcus, his head hanging down. His nose was drizzling something dark; he snorted and then spat out a mouthful of blood and mucus. "Fine. Whatever you want. I don't care."

"All right then," said the madgod, cheerily. "I'll intercede." She could almost feel the Daedric prince steeling himself. "With the Screecher," Sheogorath said, with markedly less enthusiasm.

Marcus fell right down onto his face.

Erdi cried out, but Jod was already kneeling down. "Fainted," he reported. "Do Mara's priests have good healing magick? Pretty sure this arm's broke."

Finally, Erandur stirred. He came down to take a look. "Not so bad," he reported, after long moments. "Won't take much. I've got it." An amber-green glow rose and dissipated.

"He's still under the influence of the Torpor," Erdi advised the priest. "All of this is from Vaermina. How long till it wears off?" Because it might be simpler to just put him back in the jail for a bit. Jod was looking exhausted.

"I... I do not know," said Erandur, troubled. "My hope was that once his Dreamstride ended, her influence would wane. Perhaps not."

"He told me that Vaermina could have his memories," said Erdi, in a small voice. "All of them. What happens to people who don't have their memories?" But she already knew the answer to that question, didn't she? There isn't much left of them. She felt sick.

"Leave him lie," said the priest, after a few more minutes. "Perhaps a little rest will help? In any event, I must deal with the Skull. Perhaps once it is destroyed, her influence will wane and thereby withdraw from his mind--" he took a breath.

"Well," Erandur said. "It is time."

Erdi came up behind to watch as Erandur approached the Skull of Corruption, face rapt.

"HE LIES. HE IS DECEIVING YOU," Erdi gasped, her hands going to her ears. "WHEN THE RITUAL IS COMPLETE THE SKULL WILL BE FREE AND ERANDUR WILL TURN ON YOU. QUICKLY! KILL HIM NOW AND THE SKULL WILL BE YOURS. KILL HIM AND-- 

"Sorry!" said Sheogorath. "Thought I'd give you a small taste of the Screecher. Aren't we Miss Congeniality! But-- I forgot. Loud. Here."

Inside Erdi's head, Vaermina had been reduced to a much more tolerable volume; she was just a creepy insidious whisper now. 

"Oh my dear gods," said Erdi faintly. Was this what Dibella had been shielding her from? What Marcus had been hearing? It was terrible. "I really don't want to hear any of it at all." 

"Ehh," agreed Sheogorath, and the Daedric Prince of Nightmares was summarily silenced. "It gets old. So-- remind me now--is this the part where the priest grabs the thing and grows like twenty feet taller and says 'ahaha' and 'aren't you sorry you trusted me' and 'now I have the power to--"

"I really hope not," said Erdi, quietly. "I'm tired. And thirsty."

And, to Jod: "For goodness' sake, it's just the madgod. One really can't just ignore him, you know! He gets upset."

"Yeah," said Jod. "Please. I had about enough. Do you have to do this shit too?"

Marcus stirred. He sat up and then grimaced, looking at the condition of his gloves.  
He began to try to scrape them off against the cobblestones. Then he gave up and took them off, going into his beltpouch to get a bit of cloth to wipe off his face and hands. Then he dabbed at his gloves, redonning them. When Marcus was done, he sat quietly, watching what Erandur was doing near the Skull: "I kind of want to get a look at that Skull thing before he turns it into dust," he said.

"Don't you think you should stay away from it?" said Erdi. 

But Marcus was already moving forward. So she followed him.

"That thing is even more stomach-churning close up," Marcus said, softly. "It really does look kind of Orcish, but those horns are kind of more like this stick totem thing Auryen showed me that was from the Western Druadachs and--"

Well, he seemed to have bounced right back, thought Erdi. Erandur was still chanting and doing other priestly things. They were trying to speak quietly so as to not interrupt him.

"Make a sketch," suggested Erdi, under her breath. "Maybe that'll make your museum guy happy. Isn't he the one who likes to make the replicas?"

Marcus dug around in his pockets and pouches and came up with a tiny bound wax book. "Dunno if I have anything to-- Ah!" 

Jod handed him a stylus. "Don't stab me with it," he said, gruffly.

Marcus worked quickly, stepping up and around Erandur to get various angles of view. When he was done, he went over to the large bas-relief which dominated the altar. "These carvings are something," Marcus said. "Wish I could get one to take back."

"Yeah, you go do that. Put it in your bedroom, that'd be real good for you," said Jod. "Priest almost done?"

"Doesn't seem to be," said Erdi. Erandur was making larger and more exaggerated gestures, his voice rising.

Marcus sketched, quickly. Erdi wondered how he was able to get any level of detail at all, in the wax. She didn't say anything. He seemed wholly focused, absorbed in the moment. There was still blood on his face, but his nose had stopped bleeding.

"Huh," said Erdi, after he folded the wax tablet shut and came to stand near her. "That barrier seems to be a problem, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Marcus agreed, a little too loud. "My vote is that we let Lady Mara deal with it this time." His smirk was a little too audible.

Erandur half-turned to glare at him but kept on chanting.

When Erandur finished, he coughed and cleared his throat, hoarsely.

"This next bit is the part that involves a bit of alchemy," he said, a little apologetically. "I have the potions, but I don't have all of the incantations memorized. If one of you could assist, that might be--"

"I'll help," said Marcus, right away. "Maybe it'll help keep her off me in the meantime, I don't know. If you see me drop the book, just shoot me or something."

Jod groaned. He did not bother to unsling his bow.

But as they got situated, Marcus did as he said he would, holding the book up for the priest and keeping the potion within hands' reach.

Now Erandur was singing, pausing only to sprinkle something from the bottle onto the barrier.

Whatever that nasty lingering odd smell in the room was-- Miasma or the lingering influence of Vaermina-- it started to be overcome by the scent of roses and sandalwood. Mara.

Erandur handed back the bottle and took the book and began to recite. Abruptly he stopped, and began to make gestures with his hands.

Marcus exclaimed abruptly as the barrier disintegrated. 

Erdi saw Erandur pulled the magickal shield into himself and then send it outwards again in streamers of pink light.

"Stay there," Erandur warned them. "I may need to do this a few more times."

Erandur continued to hold the spell active for some period of time, clearly straining under it as the light flowed and pulsed.

Marcus backed away down the steps but continued to hold the book and the potion at the ready for the priest's use.

As the pink glow began to fade, and Erdi could see the area clearly now: the Skull of Corruption had vanished. She couldn't even tell where it had been.

Erandur sank to his knees and then sort of half-crawled over to a corner. 

"A few moments," he requested, still out of breath. "Please. I need to commune--" his eyes shut. 

He was shivering.

"Not what I was expecting," Marcus said. 

They looked at him.

"That was actually pretty smooth," he explained. "Thought I was going to have the mother of all headaches." He went up to the center of the plinth and examined the floor. "No remnants," he said. "I've heard that sometimes when an artifact gets destroyed you get this powdery stuff-- but there's nothing here at all."

Erdi watched Marcus carefully but he seemed to be wholly absorbed in what he was doing. He swept his fingertips over the ground and came up rubbing them together-- "Nothing," he reported. "At least I have the drawings for Auryen. Shame we couldn't recover the artifact safely."

Jod took the opportunity to prod at a few suspicious-looking places on the wall, but that came to naught as well. He muttered something about his vows.

"What exactly are your vows again?" Erdi wanted to know.

"Obedience, poverty, chastity, and kicking the shit out of anything Daedric," Jod answered. "So I'm not real keen on this-- ah-- relic collection. Glad that damned evil thing got destroyed."

"I'm pretty sure his patron keeps all those things locked up tight," said Erdi. "Marcus said that the whole point of the Daedric Gallery is so that people can see these things and recognize them for what they are, without being exposed to temptation or danger. Maybe if people know what Daedric artifacts look like, there's less of a chance of somebody innocent picking one up and getting corrupted?"

Jod grunted.

"Lord Sheogorath seems to like to talk to Marcus and myself from time to time," she told Jod. "But we didn't ask for that to happen."

"Mm?" A sleepy voice intruded itself in her mind. "And here I thought--"

"Go back to your nap," she told the madgod.

And, to Jod: "I really don't like daedra."

"Present company excepted, I'm sure!"

"Be quiet," she told Lord Sheogorath. And, to Jod: "Is it any different if you have to do with them because you were trying to help people out? Not because you were after some kind of diabolical power or something?"

"The daedra are evil. They corrupt the souls of all they touch," said Jod, earnestly.

"So if you've already got one talking to you, what do you do?"

Jod shook his head. "Beyond my ken," he said. "But someone from the Hall of the Vigilants could maybe help you out? I could send a letter."

Marcus called Jod over to have a look at something that had a magickal feel that he didn't like.

"This place doesn't look like much," Erdi commented. "Isn't Vaermina supposed to be one of the major daedric princes? The rest of this temple looks like it always was kind of a dump-- that wouldn't be unusual for old buildings--but this altar room is just barren. Really it's nothing to look at."

"Seen better in draugr tombs," agreed Marcus. He tapped the stone bas-relief and broke into his own little excited lecture about it, something about High Rock and some kind of cleansing Stendarr's priests had done there. Jod had become interested despite himself and was paying rapt attention.

Erdi was getting bored. And hungry. 

Wasn't the priest ready to go yet?

Jod went to see.

"I think he should sit down a few more minutes," said Jod. "Since I got time, let me--" he frowned. "Maybe the god would help. Let's see."

He began an invocation to Stendarr; if any of the Aedra would assist in cleaning this place from the last of Vaermina's influence, it would be that one. 

Erdi went to sit with Erandur.

"How did you get mixed up in all of this mess?" she asked, curious. He didn't seem the dark-magick sort.

Erandur raised his head from his hands: "I grew up in the Pale, just outside Dawnstar. The priests here-- I don't know what they saw-- they recruited me when I was still a very young elf." He sighed. "I've done a number of questionable things in my time, but that decision was the worst."

"How long ago was that?" Erdi wanted to know. 

"A long time," he said, dully.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Aren't you happy that we defeated Vaermina?"

"I killed my friends," he said. 

"Um. Those couldn't have been your friends," said Erdi. "Those other people, you saw how they were-- they didn't have any minds left at all! I think that what you saw as Veren and Thorek were apparitions or fetches or something of Vaermina's, made to look like your friends. Vestiges re-animating their bodies. Definitely some kind of revenants. But not your friends."

Erandur looked at her, sorrowfully. "I didn't kill them today," he said. 

Oh.

"How do you mean?" she asked, to fill the silence.

"Once I was clear of the temple, I could have gone to the Pale Guard, or to the jarl," said Erandur. "We were not a secret organization, and the temple had the reputation of being law-abiding. Help would have come, I think." He regarded his hands. "I was a fool. I ran, and I never returned. So the Miasma killed them or rotted their minds, and they died."

"What about the bad dreams your people were sending the orcs?" asked Erdi. "Wouldn't that have been a problem?"

"Not for the jarl," said Erandur. "Nobody cares about orcs." He sighed. "I can only surmise that is why they were chosen as the target of Vaermina's memory-theft. Even if they had gone to the jarl, what credence would he have put in the bad dreams of pariahs? He wouldn't have done a thing." He frowned and thought about it. "For all that I know, they did go to him and were turned away. Perhaps attacking the temple was their last resort." Erandur regarded Erdi, more closely. "Mara doesn't distinguish amongst the various peoples," he told her. "All are equally blessed in her sight. Even the orcs. Remember that."

Erdi nodded. She did not much care for Mara. But that part was all right.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable resting upstairs near your shrine?" she asked.

When they got back upstairs to the ruined temple, Erandur had to sit and rest again for a time. 

"After I ran from this place, I wandered Skyrim for years, until I was taken in by a priest of Mara who lived in Morthal," he said. "Finding Mara was the greatest moment of my life," he said. "I'll never forget the warmth through my heart when--"

Erdi had suddenly thought of something: "Aren't priests of Mara married?" she interrupted.

Erandur's sorrowful gaze left the altar and returned to her. "Generally so," he said. "I was." He went silent.

Erdi was sorry she'd asked.

Eventually Erandur rubbed his face and got up from the bench, going to Mara's altar. "I thought I would go on too, when she passed. In many ways it feels like I did." He touched one of the guttering candles at Mara's altar, extinguishing it. "I suppose Mara had some purpose for my still being here, after all."

"What are you going to do now?" asked Erdi.

"My intention was to spend the rest of my years here, burying the past and praying to Mara for forgiveness," Erandur said. His long fingers snuffed another guttering candle. He fumbled the catch of the small chest nearby to find its replacement. 

"Isn't that kind of a waste?" Erdi questioned. "I mean, it's not like there are that many healing mages in the world, and Dawnstar certainly seems to be in need of a priest of Mara. If they're having you lead services in the basement of the tavern--" She shuddered; that place was not clean-- "then obviously there's some demand. Why don't you talk to the jarl about it?"

Erandur nodded. His expression had gone distant again. After a few moments he excused himself and knelt to begin a devotional.

Erdi went down to see what was taking so long. Jod and Marcus were still down at the bottom of the tower, blessing things and sketching things, as case may be. Neither seemed inclined to hurry up. Marcus had found another series of carvings. They were rather disturbing to look at, but you wouldn't know it by how he enthused over them. 

Erdi went outside to watch the stars. The wind had died down and the temperature felt like it was rising. It wasn't cold, for early winter. The night was wholly still.

She rubbed her fingertips over her new scar, lost in thought.

"I hope Stentor can keep things under control in Solitude," she said, softly.

"Mmm?" The madgod sounded like he'd been sleeping. "Sorry? You were saying? Assuming that you want to be talking to me at all, that is. Hmf."

"Sorry," said Erdi. "Go along to get along, you know how that is. I'm not fond of Stendarr either. Don't worry about me going down to the Vigil and trying to scrub you off, or anything." Stendarr could certainly do a better job attending to his own chosen tasks. Mercy for the weak, for one.

"I'm worried," Erdi said. "What happens now that Pelagius is no longer watching over that part of the Blue Palace? And why is Vaermina sending all of us dreams of... of undead and other terrible things there?"

"Nothing I want to see happen," said Sheogorath, darkly. And, under his breath: "Damned upstart."

"I don't understand," said Erdi. "What do you want me to do?"

"Hm? I needed a champion," said the Daedric Prince. "You applied for the job. Seemed like an ideal candidate. Good people skills. Take-charge attitude. Willing to take risks. Oh-- I'm sorry. Did we not go over the job description when we last talked about this?"

"What?" asked Erdi, mightily confused.

"Your duties. As my ah-- hm! Adventurer."

"No sir," she said.

"Ah. You know-- save the beast! Rescue the realm. Slay the damsel. All that sort of-- Oh! Almost forgot." Sheogorath chuckled evilly. "Other duties as assigned."

Erdi didn't much like the sound of that last part. 

"I think I get the idea," she said, carefully. "Is there something in particular I ought to be doing about Solitude and that thing that Thoriz Pelagius was trying to keep from happening?"

"No idea!" admitted Sheogorath, cheerily. "For all I know we're doomed... DOOMED...doom-- at least there will be entrails... Always some good with the bad." He began to hum. 

"Do you mind?" Erdi complained. "I'm getting a headache." 

Maybe appealing to Stendarr wouldn't be so bad.

"I know!" said the Prince of Madness, suddenly. "I just thought of something. Teach your friend whatsername over there how to write. That'd be useful."

"HIS name is Marcus," muttered Erdi, pettishly.

Sheogorath laughed. Quietly, at least. "I wonder. Does...hm!..he.. even remember his name? Do any of them?"

Erdi had no idea what he was on about. She kept quiet.

After a time she felt the madgod's presence recede.

The sky began to soften behind her as dawn approached. Even though she was standing on a rock, and had fur-lined boots, her feet were completely numb. 

How do guardsmen do this, she wondered, shifting in place. Wondering if she tried to walk, if she would fall on her face.

Still, she didn't want to go inside. The fresh air was wonderful after the odd cloying stink of the lingering Miasma. And the sun was just about to come up.

Jod and Marcus finally emerged, Marcus talking volubly at him. Erandur followed.

"I'll get you paper," promised Jod. "Got a couple of empty books back at the jarl's house. Not gonna use them for anything anytime soon. You might as well use them for your drawings. Gonna have a lot of time to sit around anyways. Heh." He handed Marcus back the crossbow-machine thing and his dagger. 

Erdi looked at them. 

"I left all that other stuff downstairs," said Marcus, defensively. "Crap weapons anyways. You'd think Vaermina worshipers could afford better. Pretty low-rent Daedric cult."

Erandur made a disgruntled noise: "Not that Mara countenances such activities," he began... "But the ingredients for the darker aspects of Alchemy are exceedingly expensive, so perhaps it is understandable that the elder priests..."

It was a long walk back to town.

They dropped Erandur off at the inn.

The morning shift of miners was just coming in, and Erandur took the time to address them. At length.

"Alright," said Jod, after a couple of minutes of this. "No offense to Mara but we aren't staying. Have to see the jarl and then get this one back to jail before someone sees him and decides it's worth taking a potshot."

The three of them got to stand right up next to the jarl's firepit and drink hot bean soup, which was too salty but still heavenly. Erdi burned her tongue.

The jarl's servant Bulfrek, also supposed to be eating his breakfast, peppered them with all sorts of annoyingly overeager questions.

Erdi tried to answer all of them but Bulfrek kept persisting and she was rapidly falling out of charity with him. Couldn't he see that they were practically falling over?

"If you want to be a soldier or adventurer then go ask the jarl yourself," she finally snapped. "I hardly see what I have to do with it.

Jod was no help at all. All he did was laugh at her.

Marcus, worryingly, had fallen silent again. He hadn't eaten much of his soup, either.

When Erdi asked, he did admit that his arm hurt where it had been broken, but not too badly. He didn't say more.

"Skald? If you don't mind, sir. I have a request."

Skald raised an eyebrow and grunted.

"This ought to be good," said Jod, to Erdi.

"Well, I was thinking, sir-- Maybe, with the war going on, I could enlist? Fight the Imperials?"

Jod snorted and said to Erdi: "We hold arms practice for the populace twice a week. Archery as well. Never seen him there."

"Man can't even sweep a floor," said Erdi to Jod. "Look at those corners. How's he going to get past his first sergeant?"

"A servant?! Enlisting in the Stormcloaks?" Skald laughed heartily. "That's why I like having you around, Bulfrek. Always good for a laugh."

"Yessir," said Bulfrek, glumly. "That's me. The oafish servant."

"Good," said Skald. "We've got a whole shipment of swords and armor coming in. I need every piece to be polished to a fine shine."

"Yes, my jarl. We could hardly waste anyone else's precious time on such a tedious task," said Bulfrek, snidely.

Erdi choked. "I'd still be in the garbage-scullery," she said to Jod. "Scrubbing away. If they heard me talk like that." 

"Yeah," agreed Jod. "I know what my novice-master'd do. I'd still be running laps, crying from the welts across my--"

Bulfrek, walking by them, sighed at Erdi.

"Don't blame me," she said to Bulfrek. "What on Mundus possessed you to beg leave like that? Of course Skald made a joke out it." 

"Little training wouldn't hurt," said Jod, meaningfully. "Can't be a Stormcloak if you can't run uphill in armor or swing a sword. Every Middas and Sundas," he said, helpfully. "Weighted packs for the running and wooden swords with lead in them, for the workouts in-between." 

Bulfrek looked dismayed. 

Erdi smiled at him. "It's possible, she said. "Hard, but possible. I did it."

"He won't do it," predicted Jod, after Bulfrek walked away.

Erdi rather agreed with that assessment.

"You know," she said to Jod. "I bet that tower would come in handy for defense if the jarl wanted to reclaim it."

Jod looked up at the ruined Tower of the Dawn. "Feel a bit different about it," he admitted. "Used to see it and feel good, like I was coming home. Makes my skin creep, now."

"I'm sure that the Jarl will have to take a good part of it down and rebuild it to make it safe," Erdi assured him. "And it'll be much different now that it has Stendarr's blessing. Won't it?"

Jod remained dubious.

A couple of days later, Erdi walked around the periphery of town, looking for Alfgar the Dovahkiin.

She found him making observations at one of the nearby mines.

"Mine owners promise overmuch," Alfgar the Dovahkiin said, in explanation. 

He was watching the workers, trying to get a general idea of the mine's usual daily yield. Betild could get more iron out of the mine by cramming more workers down there at a time, but that would not be healthful working conditions. Which tended to cause accidents that slowed production. So Alfgar'd wanted to come and see for himself whether his requirements could realistically be met.

The Dovahkiin asked after Marcus. He had gone to the jail to try to visit with Marcus. Marcus, it seemed, had moved to the back of his cell and faced the wall, refusing to acknowledge his presence. The Dovahkiin had not wanted to force the issue.

"Marcus was a pretty bad prisoner in Solitude," said Erdi, remembering how that had gone. "But he didn't know what would happen then, and the charges were severe. This time the jarl waived off all of his criminal penalties already, so he's not risking such a bad outcome."

Even if Marcus hadn't gotten a pardon, the jarl had already reduced the charge to 'grievous disturbance of the peace'-- as by now there were several other individuals up on charges of piracy and so on; and it had appeared as if the luckless guardsman had been someone who warranted killing. Oh, Erdi had forgotten a charge: damage to property. Skald hadn't appreciated the mess all over his boardwalk.

Erdi explained that the question of wergeld ought to be handled fairly soon-- at least by the winter assizes-- and once that was done, perhaps a bond could be set? It would only be three or four weeks. The Dovahkiin seemed satisfied with that answer, and went on to discuss his own plans, and where he would be in Hjaalmarch, building the new settlement and keeping an eye on the dragon-mound. The Dovahkiin was looking for a particular artifact which he thought might have been stolen out of a tomb by one of the bandits in the vicinity. He would be scouting for that, too.

Erdi wished the Dovahkiin's newest venture luck.

"Seren's all done cleaning up my armor, so I'm off to Winterhold on the next boat," she told him. "The weather's still holding so it should be fine. I'll check on Marcus again before I go."

Marcus, who had been given his promised paper and empty books and ink and such, had spent his time happily reducing his sketches to drawings, continually referencing his wax tablet. He'd been no trouble to his guards this time. The only real hiccup had come when the Stormcloaks had caught him using a splinter to fiddle the lock of his cell back into place.

"I can't believe you did all that," said Erdi.

Marcus shrugged. "I met this guy in Riften who was renting out a jail cell and living in it like it was an apartment. The guards held the key for him. Saw him when I was dealing with Sibbi Black-briar."

"Why?" Erdi wanted to know.

"Skooma addiction's pretty tough," said Marcus. "I think he just wanted to be where he couldn't get at it, till he could trust himself. I mean, I'd seen him before out in the world, and he was all eaten up by it."

"I meant, why did you break out?" she asked, because he'd evaded her question.

"Supper didn't agree with me," he said, easily. "All I did was get down to the privy and then go to the guards' dayroom to wash up. If any of them had been awake like they're supposed to be, it wouldn't have been a problem."

Marcus began to ask another question, but then suddenly glanced back towards the far corner of his cell and fell silent. He began to move towards the corner slowly... and then stopped.

"Are you still hearing--" Erdi broke off. Maybe spending most of his time alone in here working on his drawings of the God of Nightmare's temple and that horrid evil artifact was not, in fact, good for Marcus. She could see the pulse beating in his throat.

"I think if the guards offer again you should go and sit out in their dayroom with them," she told him. "I don't think anyone in Dawnstar's really after you anyways. Even that guy's wife's sister stopped me and said I should thank you for her."

Marcus remained still. She could see his skin filming wet with perspiration. His eyes moved under their lids as if he were dreaming. Erdi couldn't get at Marcus due to the locked cell door, and he didn't respond to anything that she said. She stood, waiting.

After an eternity his eyes opened. They were utterly blank and unearthly.

"The gods lie," Marcus said. He blinked, and seemed to recognize her. "Be careful, Erdi," he said.

"I left about a third of the money with Jod for you," Erdi said, anxiously. "Alfgar's going to leave some too. Please think about taking it. I don't want to leave you, but I have to get on to Winterhold like I promised Thaena. I hate the thought of leaving you here with nothing."

Marcus nodded, not really attending. His gaze had gone back to whatever-it-was that he was perceiving.

"Is it you-know-who?" she asked. "Because maybe I could help--"

Eventually his chin moved, minutely: No.

"Do you want me to see if they will let you have your lute?" Erdi asked. "Or any of your other things?"

After getting no answer for some time Erdi went out to find Jod, and then Yorvik. They didn't think there was anything that could be done, but they were willing to send in Madena, the jarl's wizard. Erandur said he would stop by-- he was clearly already feeling guilty about whatever-it-was that was going on with Marcus, so Erdi said nothing more.

"I think you should take those drawings he made away from him," said Erdi. "And that damned wax tablet. All he does is stare at those horrible things. When he's not talking to himself or the wall, I mean." 

Erandur nodded.

"I will do so," he promised. "I fear that this is the natural result of the Prince of Nightmare's lingering displeasure and not some natural process." He sighed. "Attempts at healing did nothing. I shall pray to Mara for surcease."

"Jod said he would appeal to Stendarr," said Erdi.

"And you can entreat Dibella," said Erandur. "Perhaps one of our Aedra will intervene."

Erdi made a graceful gesture rather than answer the priest. She would do no praying. It would not do Marcus any good.

Lady Dibella has no love for broken things.

Not a very pleasant adventure, thought Erdi, gathering up her things for the boat to Winterhold. But they had survived, more or less. She was still quite worried over what Vaermina had done to Marcus, but there didn't seem to be anything that she could do, and he would be safe in Jarl Skald's jail for some time.

"I need to see what happened to Cyrelian," she'd explained to the Dovahkiin. "Or I'd just think about it forever. And I promised Thaena I'd go help her set up court. Skald's willing to give me something to set up in Winterhold instead of Dawnstar and it might be easier there? Less competition." She smiled up at him. "Korir could use a builder, is what Thaena told me. Sure you want to run off to those nasty marshes to get bit by spiders?"

The big Nord grinned at her.

They had all heard about what had happened with Ulfric's troops outside Morthal and the spiders.

"If we're lucky, the mine he found will be profitable enough to fund all kinds of enterprises once we get it going," said the woman standing with him. "Good raw materials, too. I promised I'd handle all of the petty little details. Deal with the local thanes, that sort of thing." She smiled at them. "I promise I'll send the Dovahkiin along to Winterhold all once the mine's up and running." She laughed. "Should be in good time, as long as Jarl Skald doesn't dally too long in setting the assizes. I still have to give testimony on behalf of your Marcus."

"Thank you, Ilona." said Erdi.

"It's the least I could do for that young man," said the woman, cheerfully. "Probably be dead from the rattles if not for him." Or from her injuries, which had been horrible to even think about.

"You look like you're doing pretty good," said Erdi, and bit back the words "all things considered."

"For the most part," agreed Ilona. "It will get better."

I hope so, thought Erdi.

"You look pretty good yourself," said Ilona. "Like a true adventurer. That armor suits you as if it was made for you. Better than the last set. Thalmor. Really?"

"Cyrelian gave that set to me-- he'd stolen it," Erdi confessed. "Because we really didn't have anything else." She paused. "Cyr said I could go be my own golden knight." She shrugged. "I was just a palace maid."

"Take it from an old Legion adjunct," said Ilona, admiringly. "You'd never know it."

"Were you plannin' on arguing with me about my hiring practices, then?" said Sheogorath. "Because we could talk about that. New Sheoth's got some floors that could use--"

No sir, said Erdi; and: "Yes, ma'am. I'm an adventurer, now."


End file.
